


Take Pleasure in the Shade of Young Saplings

by Chichirinoda



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confinement, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Plot, Sex Trafficking, Sex Work, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-06-10 04:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15283203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: Still fresh and raw from the deadly confrontation between himself and Genji, Hanzo has taken his place as kumicho of the Shimada. It's an uncomfortable fit, but no one would accuse Hanzo of doing less than his duty. In fact, without anyone left in his life that he can trust, Hanzo has nothing left but duty.Until he reluctantly visits a brothel owned by a distant cousin, and sees a startling and intriguing sight - a cowboy, and he's not there by choice, either.Little does Hanzo know that the man who quickly captivates him is a member of Blackwatch, sent to Hanamura on a solo mission. And Jesse McCree knows that Hanzo's brother is very much alive.





	1. Chapter 1

There were a lot of things Hanzo disliked about being the head of the Shimada-gumi. He loathed the interminable meetings, even though he was actually very good at dealing with them. He hated the elders of the clan, who believed that they were in charge and he was nothing but a figure head. He hated the needless violence, and the times when violence was needed. He hated that there was no one in his life that he could trust, and the necessity to at all times maintain a perfect mask of control and poise.

But he rather thought he hated the sex parties the most.

The owner of this club, Tanaka Houji, was a third cousin twice removed, or something. His family was related distantly enough that there was no fear of a challenge coming from that part of the bloodline, but closely enough that it would be a blow to lose their loyalty. Family was family, after all, particularly amongst the yakuza. And so this necessitated Hanzo accepting the occasional invitation to partake in his wares.

While sometimes he could appease the Tanaka branch by sampling their particular brand of sake or opium, or spending a pleasant evening playing Pachinko, Tanaka Houji's sub branch of the family was particularly prominent in the sex trade. In addition to luring good Japanese girls into a life of slavery, they had agents in many countries, from Southeast Asia to South America, who trafficked in impoverished and gullible girls, promising them a better future, and then bringing them to Japan to work where they didn't speak the language and had no hope of rescue.

It was distasteful, but such was the business he had been born into, and Tanaka's family did bring in a great deal of money for the Shimada-gumi. 

And so, he found himself tonight in a dungeon of sorts, watching from a corner table as he calculated just how long he would have to stay to be polite. 

A girl sat at his right side, pouring sake. Her kimono was decorated with cherry blossoms and he wondered if this was intended as homage to his family home in Hanamura. Her obi was tied in the front. She had said not a word since sitting down, except to thank him for the honour of his patronage in broken and rehearsed Japanese.

He ignored her as best he could.

Unfortunately, the view was no better. Men laughed and drank together, pawing at the girls seated beside them. Some of them got up and led girls away to more private rooms, but others scarcely bothered. Hanzo saw more than one woman squirming with discomfort as her breasts were bared to the view of the entire room, before he averted his gaze.

Oddly, the sex workers in the room were not all women. As he pulled his gaze away from one such indecorous display, his eyes landed on a most remarkable sight.

A cowboy, of all things.

The young man scarcely seemed old enough to be called such. Initially, Hanzo estimated his age at being mid-twenties, but upon further observation he realized that he had to be far younger. His cheeks were still bearing some of the roundness of youth, and his beard, while scruffy, was likely only a shadow of what he might one day be able to achieve.

Despite being in his late teens, perhaps early twenties, the young man was outrageously hairy, his skin browned from a combination of sun and likely some diluted blood. Hanzo couldn't fathom the man's ethnicity, and settled at 'American' and 'mongrel' as the most accurate ways to describe his origin.

He was wearing a pair of chaps without a cowboy's trademark jeans underneath them, a black leather thong to keep only the barest minimum of covering for his genitals, and the largest leather belt Hanzo had ever seen. His chest was bare, and he wore a battered cowboy hat on his head. 

At the moment, he sat side-saddle on the knee of a prodigiously fat Japanese man Hanzo didn't know. The man was sucking on his neck and pawing at his chest, and while the cowboy's face was hidden from Hanzo's view, there was a tension to his well-muscled shoulders that told Hanzo he was not here by choice.

The sight was both baffling and appalling. Hanzo wouldn't have given him another glance, except that when he was still taking in the insane image and trying to understand what he was seeing, the cowboy turned and saw Hanzo.

The American's eyes widened instantly, and then he looked away quickly.

What a strange response. Almost as if the man had recognized Hanzo, but that seemed unlikely.

Tanaka suddenly loomed into view, a skinny and somewhat ferrety older man who shared Hanzo's nose, but not much else in terms of looks. "How are you enjoying your evening, Shimada-sama," he said unctuously. "Is the girl to your liking?"

"That boy," Hanzo said, gesturing to the American across the way. "Is he one of yours?"

Tanaka blinked and looked back at him, then laughed. "Ah, the American. Caught him breaking into my vault last week. He's working off his debt - may be quite a while."

"He doesn't have family who will miss him?" Hanzo asked, stunned. Americans, particularly American tourists, were a risky business. When Americans vanished on holidays in first world countries, investigations tended to happen. Embassies got involved. It could be a mess in the making.

"No family, no money, no passport," Tanaka said with a chuckle, and leaned forward conspiratorially. "The boy's trash. I assume he's wanted in America for some manner of crime, though he's been close-mouthed about it. I expect he's here in Japan, thinking that he can escape American authorities. He won't sing to anyone, and risk being returned to his homeland."

A criminal? Hanzo looked at the boy with new eyes, lip curling faintly, but he was no hypocrite. Hanzo was also a criminal, of course, and it was unlikely that a boy like this could be old enough to have committed even a fraction of the crimes Hanzo himself was directly responsible for - let alone the fact that literal hundreds, if not thousands, of crimes were committed under his direction.

"And how is he in bed?" he asked, because it was likely expected of him.

"Would you like to find out, Shimada-sama?" Tanaka purred. "You know that what happens at Tanaka's stays at Tanaka's, especially for you."

In fact, there was no quicker source of rumours than a den of inequity, but Hanzo didn't care if people thought he was okama. Perhaps such a rumour might stave off some of the pressure he was beginning to feel from the elders to marry and produce an heir.

What a fantasy. That would never happen. The elders would never give up on forcing a woman onto him, and one day Hanzo would likely bend to the pressure. They wouldn't care if he desired the woman or not.

Either way, it didn't matter. He snorted faintly. "It looks as though that man has beaten me to it, if I were inclined to such a thing."

"Don't be silly. What you want, you get," Tanaka said. "Besides, Yamaguchi-san is just taking a free sample. He won't pay until he books a room, so the boy is free for your use if you wish."

Hanzo took a sip of his sake to cover the feeling of discomfort that rose in him. He hadn't slept with a prostitute since his father had taken him to become a man at the age of sixteen. That had been an awkward and unpleasant ordeal, and not one he wished to repeat. He didn't even desire this strange, brown, hairy bear of a man - he was only interested to learn more.

"Book me a room," he said. "I want him."

"As you wish," Tanaka purred, and rose to make the arrangements. "He will be in our finest room. Top of the stairs. Shall I send more sake?"

"Yes, please," Hanzo said fervently.

Hanzo sat frozen, an empty sake cup in his hand, while Tanaka moved to the cowboy and spoke to him. The cowboy stiffened visibly and turned his head to look at Hanzo again, his eyes narrowed with what appeared to be anger. But the emotion was gone in a flash, replaced by a wooden expression. He rose obediently and disappeared through a doorway, presumably to await his patron.

Hanzo set the cup down and swallowed through a dry mouth, then straightened his tie jerkily. He shooed the girl away and slid out from behind the table. He picked up the hard leather case he kept by his side always - it contained Stormbow, and a quiver of arrows, as it would be unseemly for a Shimada to go anywhere without the ability to summon his dragons. With that, he straightened, and headed for the stairs.

He realized quickly that he had, perhaps, drunk a bit too much sake. There was one humiliating moment when he had to put out a hand to brace himself on a column when his feet seemed inclined to head in one direction, and his body another. After what felt like a long time, but was probably only a second, Hanzo straightened and settled himself on his feet. He took a quick look around, decided that no one seemed to have seen his moment of weakness, and managed to make his way out of the main room without embarrassing himself further.

He allowed himself to hold the hand rail as he climbed the steps, and then strode down the short hallway to the single door at the end. He reached out to touch the sliding panel, then paused, a strange feeling of nervousness assailing him. He wasn't sure what to expect when he opened the door.

 _It doesn't matter,_ he told himself. _Whatever happens, I'm the one in control. He's only a prostitute - what is there for me to fear?_

He took off his patent leather shoes, then he slid the door open and stepped inside, leaving his shoes outside the door to mark it as occupied.

The room was decorated in a Western style, though likely the American saw it as foreign to the extreme. A large bed dominated the room rather than a futon, but tatami caressed Hanzo's socked feet rather than carpet. The room smelled invitingly of cherry blossoms. 

The cowboy was already there, waiting for him. He lay stretched out on the bed, head propped up, wearing his ridiculous cowboy hat and chaps, though thankfully he had left his boots somewhere instead of spoiling the blankets and destroying the tatami with them.

He grinned when Hanzo entered. "Hey there. Heard you liked what you saw, and wanted to get a closer look."

He was speaking in English. Hanzo wondered if he spoke any Japanese, or if it had occurred to the gaijin that Hanzo might not understand his advances. There was also no sign of the antipathy that the man had displayed before. Perhaps Hanzo had imagined it, he was beginning to doubt himself.

There was a chair and table in the room. Hanzo set the case containing Stormbow down and considered for a moment joining the man on the bed, but his heart gave a few nervous thumps at the prospect, and he retreated to the table. He wasn't here because he desired the man, anyway. He was here because of curiosity, and no other reason.

"Pour sake," he said in Japanese, gesturing to the steaming bottle and cup set out for the purpose in case the gaijin didn't understand even that simple phrase.

The man's face fell visibly, and his expression was hidden by the brim of his hat for a moment as he pushed himself up and off the bed. As he walked closer, Hanzo was suddenly struck by the realization of his height. Sitting as he was, the difference was more exaggerated, and Hanzo had to fight the temptation to get to his feet.

The belt buckle came within inches of his face as the young man came over to the table. Hanzo could see the dark trail of hairs forming a line from the man's surprisingly toned abs down to - and past - the buckle itself. And then there was the way the undergarments bulged obviously around-- Hanzo's mouth was dry and he was staring.

He focused on the hands which were clumsily pouring his sake. No finesse whatsoever. He poured as if he'd never done it before - which was likely, Hanzo realized. His fingers were thick and clumsy and his knuckles were scarred, pale marks standing out amongst the brown. But of course, he was a criminal, and likely had endured violence - or been the perpetrator of such - many times. 

"What's your name?" Hanzo asked, in an effort to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

The prostitute paused, then answered in a low voice. "James. James Maverick."

Hanzo started. "Is that a made-up name?"

"What?" The young man peered at him. Then, in halting and heavily accented Japanese. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Ah, so he had memorized some Japanese - some polite phrases he might encounter while travelling in a foreign land. Hanzo switched to English. "I said, is that name a pseudonym?"

The young man's eyes widened in surprise. Hanzo preened inwardly. His English was impeccable, or so he'd been told, and spoken with scarcely an accent at all. The cowboy likely had not expected this.

"A soo-do what?" the cowboy asked.

Hanzo's eyes narrowed. Was he being deliberately obtuse, or could it be that Hanzo's English was not as good as he thought? "A fake. A false name," he growled.

"Oh! Yeah, it is," the boy admitted, giving a sheepish grin and pushing the sake cup towards Hanzo with a complete lack of dignity. "Here's your drink."

Hanzo sniffed in contempt, but took the cup. At least 'James' had managed not to spill it all over him. 

"Sit down," he commanded. The cowboy was still looming over him and Hanzo was growing increasingly uncomfortable sitting in his shadow. James glanced around with uncertainty, then shrugged and folded his legs under him and sat on the floor at Hanzo's feet.

Ah, that was agreeable, though the way he crossed his legs, with his knees spread as if in lotus, but his ankles resting on the floor instead of being properly folded one over the other only accentuated his shocking state of undress. Hanzo attempted to focus on some other part of his body, like his face, or shoulders. The former was mostly hidden by the hat, while the latter were... extremely pleasurable to behold up close.

It was truly unexpected, how fit this man was. Hanzo swallowed a mouthful of spit and chased it with sake.

"You speak pretty good english," said James, tilting his head back and pushing his hat up so he could meet Hanzo's gaze.

 _You don't,_ Hanzo thought with amusement. _That grammar was a travesty._

"Where are you from, James?" Hanzo asked, sipping at his sake to cover the smile.

"Colorado," James said, another probable lie. "Do you want me to suck you?" he added baldly, his expression neutral, as if he cared not at all what Hanzo's response might be.

Hanzo blushed. Thankfully, James didn't see the reaction, he had shifted up onto his knees and he was leaning forward, placing his hands on Hanzo's thighs in anticipation of a positive response. Hanzo froze at the unexpected touch, his fingers twitching instinctively, and had to set his sake cup down hastily to avoid spillage.

"Ah, no. Not just yet, we were having a conversation," he said hastily. He put a hand on James' shoulder to stop him, and the young man looked up at him, confused. A wary sort of fear edged into his eyes, which were a beautiful shade, muddling green and brown together in a manner that should have been quite unpleasant.

"If you want somethin' more freaky, then don't be shy," he said. "I know you don't give a shit about me, or our 'conversation', so just tell me what you want, and I'll do it. You're the paying customer, after all."

"You know that, do you?" Hanzo asked, focusing on the only part of the cowboy's statement that didn't make him want to crawl into a hole and die of mortification. "Is that because you know who I am?"

The cowboy's eyes flicked away, a frown furrowing his brows for a fraction of a moment. "Huh?" he asked, looking up at him again. "Why would I know who you are?"

Was that a lie? If so, it was becoming tiresome. 

But why were they playing this game? The cowboy was correct - he didn't care much for who he was, and he _was_ a prostitute. Hanzo was paying for his time, and his obedience.

"I've changed my mind," Hanzo declared, picking up his sake cup and draining it. "I do want you to use your mouth to pleasure me. Do it now."

"Shocker," James muttered under his breath, but not so quietly that Hanzo didn't hear. 

Hanzo waved a hand at him, suddenly picturing what he might observe if James really did do as he'd been told - a cowboy hat sitting in his lap while the man pleasured him underneath it? That wouldn't do. "Undress first. Your costume is ridiculous."

"It ain't a costume, darlin'," James said, backing off and seating himself on his haunches, grinning up at him rakishly. "It's what I wear on the regular."

"That's clearly a lie," Hanzo said haughtily. "I think that outfit would chafe terribly were you to ride anything, let alone a horse."

To both of their surprise, James threw his head back and laughed - loudly and long. Hanzo had met a lot of Americans in his time, and they were all like this - loud and brash, obnoxious, lacking any decorum or common politeness whatsoever. But he hadn't thought to encounter such behaviour in a man broken to involuntary prostitution.

Could it be that he was here by design? Tanaka claimed he had broken into the place, and he had made no effort to escape his bondage.

Ridiculous. Who would do this by choice?

James got to his feet and rested his hands on his belt buckle, looking down at Hanzo thoughtfully. "So you want me to take it all off. You want it like a bit of a strip tease, darlin'?"

"That's not--" Hanzo's mouth went dry and the last word - _necessary_ \- died with a groan in his throat. James' hips had begun to gyrate, drawing his gaze inexorably to that massive belt buckle - a gaudy depiction of a skull with wings - and what lay beneath. 

The cowboy undid the buckle and drew the belt off with exaggerated slowness, then peeled the chaps off. The leather stuck to his skin, as if he were wearing a second one, and Hanzo felt his cheeks heating again at the sound as it came free from the cowboy's legs. 

The thong came off last, tearing away as if made to do so - as it likely had been. Hanzo had expected the final reveal to be anti-climactic.

It wasn't.

Hanzo was extremely glad this man was not expected to be in the dominant position. His mouth went dry, his gaze fixed for a few moments on the wild movements of James' groin and the swing of his cock between his legs. The man wasn't erect, but even as Hanzo watched, a scarred hand dropped to rub, fingers wrapping around himself shamelessly and stroking. 

"You still like what you see, darlin'?"

"Yes," Hanzo said, his voice coming out a reverent whisper. He swallowed, drained his sake cup hastily, and struggled to regain some semblance of dignity. How embarrassing, to become unmanned at such a display.

Now he considered what came next. Would he take off his own clothing? Yes, that was appropriate, wasn't it? And they should lie down on the bed. It didn't occur to him that James might not expect those things, might simply kneel before him in the chair and open his fly. In his nervousness, Hanzo all but panicked in an effort to look like he knew what he was doing.

He got to his feet abruptly, and immediately staggered as the room revolved around him dizzyingly. "Woah!" James exclaimed, taking his hand off his dick so that he could catch Hanzo. "Looks like you've had a bit too much of that sak-ee for tonight. Where're you goin'?"

"Nowhere," Hanzo slurred. Even standing, he was so much shorter than James that his head was resting against the young man's broad chest. James' arms slipped up under his armpits and wrapped around him, supporting him with an ease that seemed familiar. "You are... you are very attractive," Hanzo added. "But your Japanese is atrocious."

There was so much skin right in front of him. Hanzo pressed his palm to James' chest, and rubbed a little. The hair there was surprisingly soft.

James laughed, and even in his inebriated state, Hanzo recognized an edge in the sound. "Yeah, you're sweet to say so, darlin'. Wouldn't want to displease a customer by bein' ugly. How 'bout we just lie down for a spell, hmm? You don't look like you're goin' anywhere far just at the moment."

"Yes, we should lie down," Hanzo agreed. That had been his plan all along, after all. To lie down. So they could have sex. Oral sex. Whatever the American wanted, frankly.

James tugged him gently towards the bed and Hanzo made it there. It had only been a few steps, after all, and he was surprised the journey had seemed so insurmountable a moment before. He sat down on the edge and once again James' shadow fell over him. 

"I should... Do you wish me to disrobe?" Hanzo asked. His brain was still fogged, and he cursed himself for foolishly drinking so much. 

"You askin' me--" James started, then stopped, and seemed to look at him anew. "Hey, Shimada, you ever fucked a prostitute before?"

Hanzo recoiled physically at the crude question. "I have most certainly--" He paused, swallowing. "Once," he admitted. "A woman." He hesitated. "It was...not to my taste."

James stared at him, and Hanzo felt his cheeks heating, a coil of anger beginning in his stomach. Before he could allow it to burst forth, James coughed and let out a sigh. "Right, okay. No problem. That's no problem at all."

"Of course it's not a problem," Hanzo said, pride still stung. 

James rubbed his forehead, then dropped to one knee. "Hey now," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're in the driver's seat here. No need to get riled up."

Hanzo swallowed, then nodded. After a few moments, he drew a breath. "Perhaps," he said, with dignity. "You could provide me with some guidance."

"Whatever the customer wants," James said, breaking into a grin. Hanzo scrutinized that expression, but couldn't tell for certain if the man was making fun of him or not. Before he could decide, James reached for him, brushing his fingers against the join of Hanzo's legs. Hanzo jumped, a soft, startled sound bubbling up in his throat.

"Shh," James soothed him. He rested his hands on Hanzo's thighs instead, fingers splayed, and peered up at him. "We don't gotta do this if you don't want. Though..." He cocked his head, looking pointedly at the aching erection that pressed against the fabric of Hanzo's well-tailored slacks. "It seems like some part of ya does want somethin'."

"No, I do," Hanzo protested. "Please. Proceed."

"'Proceed', huh?" James quoted, snorting faintly. "You are the weirdest John I've ever met." 

James began to massage the tense muscles of Hanzo's thighs, making no immediate move towards something more intimate, and Hanzo found himself relaxing. He scrutinized his English knowledge for several seconds, but came up short of understanding James' last statement. "Why did you call me 'John'? That's not my name."

"A John's a guy who rents a prostitute," James told him absently. His fingers slid higher on Hanzo's thighs, and Hanzo's body tingled with a mixture of anticipation and heightened nervousness.

"Ah," he said, breathless. James' hands were on his fly. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath, but his heart was racing and James hadn't even done anything yet. "But you haven't been here long. You've met others? Others before being here?" 

James slipped a hand into Hanzo's undergarments, stroking his heated flesh directly. Hanzo made a strangled noise of pleasure, and didn't notice when James didn't respond. Instead his world - and, in fact, his entire being - narrowed to laser focus, as James' soft, wet mouth kissed him on the tip of his member, then took him inside.

Hanzo lasted a humiliatingly short amount of time. He felt as though James had scarcely touched him, before he gasped and stiffened, climax striking him out of nowhere as he spilled himself down James' throat. His eyes flew open before he'd even caught his breath, and watched with terror and defensiveness as James tucked him back into his pants and sat back on his heels.

There was a smile on James' lips, which were slightly reddened and shiny from his ministrations. Though Hanzo looked for it, there was no sign of mockery. "You doin' okay there?" James asked.

Hanzo swallowed hard and cast about for something to say, finally settling on a simple, "Yes."

James got to his feet. Hanzo saw that he was no longer erect. The younger man turned away, sauntering back towards the table. "You want more sak-ee?"

Hanzo twitched at the butchered pronunciation. "No," he said firmly. He sat for a few moments, resisting the urge to fidget. Physically, he was sated, but in all other ways-- "Do you wish for me to pleasure you in return?" he asked.

James stiffened and glanced back at him, surprise written all over his face. "You don't gotta do that."

"Ah... is it inappropriate?" Hanzo asked, uncertain. "I'm sorry. I don't wish to overstep my bounds."

James turned back to face him fully, staring with open astonishment. "I'm a-- are you kidding?"

Hanzo shifted uncomfortably. "No, I am not," he said carefully.

James gestured towards the door. "You realize I'm a prisoner, right? I'm a sex slave bein' held hostage in an illegal brothel. There's _no_ 'bounds'."

Hanzo flinched. Every word of what James had just said was true, and yet Hanzo hadn't expected it to be stated so frankly - and by the young man himself. "I suppose you are correct," he said stiffly. 

James tensed visibly, and Hanzo noticed the set of his hands. He spread them slightly away from his body, around the level of his waist. It was a classic stance - not one that Hanzo might take when preparing for a battle, as he was trained in Karate and with the blade and bow. It was a rougher stance, perhaps that of a street fighter.

But more likely the stance of one used to carrying a gun.

Hanzo had no intention of attacking the young man, but perhaps James thought that he had angered Hanzo. He lifted his chin and gave a deliberate shrug. "That does not mean that I should treat you with disrespect - or at least," he added, when James' eyes narrowed. "More disrespect than your position makes necessary."

He paused. "My presence is unwelcome. If I go, then will you be sent to a new customer?"

James' battle stance relaxed, and his expression folded with confusion. "Yeah, probably. The night's young."

"Then I will stay. You may rest, if you wish." Hanzo got to his feet, feeling steadier than before, and walked to the centre of the room. He put his back to the bed and settled into seiza. Some mediation in a quiet room might do him well, regardless.

He could still feel James' eyes staring at him. "Hang on... you don't gotta do that."

"Do what?" Hanzo asked, his eyes closed and back straight.

"Act all noble." James' tone was oddly harsh. "It don't make a difference if you stay or go. If you want to fool around, then we can do that. You don't have to sit there like a monk pretending like you're saving me."

Hanzo parsed that. He had been trying to offer James a break from what had to be a difficult situation, but somehow it seemed he'd offended him. He straightened and rose to his feet again, wobbling slightly but doing better than before. He turned to face James, who stood between Hanzo and the bed, still shamelessly naked, with his fists clenched at his sides.

"You don't desire me," Hanzo said simply. "And I cannot 'save' you. But I can offer you some respite before your duties resume."

"What's the catch?" James asked, his eyes narrowed and chin raised in challenge.

Hanzo sighed and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, just below the bar that was thrust through the cartilage there. Of course, he was being naive. Why should he expect James to be grateful? Hanzo already knew he had likely been used and hurt by many people in his life, and trust was unlikely to come easily. Likely the more Hanzo insisted that he had no ulterior motive, the less James would trust his intentions.

Better to give James what he expected. 

He reached up and loosened his tie, then removed his vest. He moved slowly, keeping his hands in view, as he undressed, folded his clothes, and set them on a dresser. After removing the vest, his shirt went next. He heard a soft noise of surprise as the full glory of his tattoo was bared, and ignored the sound. The tattoo was special indeed, but the young man couldn't understand the full meaning of it, nor its power. He would only be reacting to its beauty and intricacy. 

His pants went next. Hanzo was committed at this point, and rationalized to himself that there was no reason to be nervous, now. James had already done far more than see this part of his body. Still, his heart fluttered somewhat as he bared himself completely.

He pretended calm, folding his pants in an unhurried manner to lay on top of the other items of clothing, but couldn't help glancing at James as he set them down. James was standing where he had been, gazing at him with his lips slightly parted, his posture relaxed and his brows furrowed deeply.

Hanzo turned to face him. "You will join me in bed," he said.

James' lips twisted cynically, and he made a casual saluting gesture. "Aye aye."

Hanzo nodded curtly, and walked towards the bed. He could still feel the effects of the sake, but was starting to sober up. His feet were almost steady as he approached. He pulled the heavy covers back and gestured and James sighed. He sat down and slid under the blankets, and Hanzo joined him.

Hanzo wasn't surprised when James scooted towards him and put a hand on his waist. The cowboy licked his lips, and Hanzo had to swallow, his throat suddenly feeling tight. "Don't know where you got the idea that I don't want you, darlin'," James said, rubbing his thumb over the blade of Hanzo's hip. Hanzo could feel the callus on his thumb scraping the sensitive skin. "You're damn pretty."

"Thank you," Hanzo said primly. He put an arm awkwardly around James and considered for a moment before pressing his cheek to the younger man's chest and tucking his head under his chin. 

James' fingers stilled. "Uh, so what are we doing now?"

Hanzo smiled. "Being quiet."

"Oh." And James did indeed fall silent, likely more out of confusion than anything else.

For about thirty seconds.

"So uh, you don't come here all that often, I'm guessin'. Why're you here tonight if you ain't into the whole gettin' laid by a whore thing?"

Interesting that James wanted to ask questions, when he had spent the whole evening offering up no information and asking for none - not even Hanzo's name. Hanzo considered this a sign of victory.

"A cousin of mine owns this establishment," he said. "I was invited for an event, and came out of duty. I expected to pay my respects and leave as soon as was polite."

"And then you saw me," James said. There was a tone of smugness to his voice. "And couldn't resist."

Hanzo's cheeks heated. "So it seems," he muttered.

James fell silent again. Hanzo closed his eyes, content to remain in a comfortable silence, though James didn't seem as comfortable as he did. The cowboy shifted and sighed and rubbed his fingers over Hanzo's skin.

Eventually, though it almost appeared to be against his will, the young man fell into a doze. Hanzo waited until he was reasonably sure that James' breathing had truly evened out, then gently and carefully slipped out of bed. Silent as his training would allow, Hanzo dressed and then cast one last look at the young man. All he could see was a tousled head sticking up beyond the blankets. It appeared that he had succeeded in escaping without alerting the man.

He slipped out of the room noiselessly, and went back down the stairs. When he found Tanaka, he slipped another ten thousand yen into his hand. "I believe this will cover the rest of the night," he said. "I may return, so I wish him to be fresh and ready to attend me until dawn," he added, a lie. 

Tanaka bowed and scraped and fountained with thanks. "I'm so glad that you enjoyed him," he said, giving a wink. "Will we see you again, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Hanzo said. 

It wasn't until he had left the brothel and was seated in the back seat of his car, halfway back to Hanamura castle, before he realized something.

James had called him by name. 'Shimada', he had called him, just the once, but it stuck out in Hanzo's name for one simple reason.

He had never introduced himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny corrections made August 19, 2018.

_One year ago..._

"Hey kid, you decent?" Gabriel Reyes only knocked perfunctorily on Jesse's door before just fucking opening it up a few inches, though to be fair, he didn't actually stick his head through. Thankfully, Jesse was just sitting at his desk in his assigned room at Blackwatch headquarters, boots up on its surface, reading a magazine.

He removed the cigarette from between his lips and stubbed it out. "I'm dressed, if that's whatcha mean, Commander. You an' I both know I'm never decent."

Gabriel laughed and pulled the door open a bit more. "Funny. Come on, I want you to see someone."

Jesse straightened and got to his feet, stretching out his back. He searched in his pockets for his papers and rolled a new cigarette while he followed the older man down the hall. "What's this all about? A mission?"

He couldn't help the way his voice rose eagerly at the question. His field certification was still shiny and new - less than a month old - and he'd been keeping his six-shooter cleaner than it had ever been in its life. 

Jesse had never worked so hard for anything, before. He'd thrown himself into cadet training with abandon, determined to prove himself. Whether or not there was a big fat catch, even if Reyes turned out to be a freak or a pervert or have anger issues, he didn't care. He was never going back to Deadlock, or whatever was left of it, and he was definitely not going back to prison.

It'd been less than six months since he'd been sitting in a holding cell, facing twenty-to-life, and then Gabriel Reyes walked into the building and changed everything with a single offer. But now that Jesse had his field cert, he was starting to wonder if Reyes - or, more likely, his boss - was ever going to let Jesse out of the building to do some real work. 

Then again, Reyes kept saying he was putting together a team, and now he was supposed to be meeting someone new. 

"Not a mission, not yet," Reyes said, glancing at him sidelong. "Keep your pants on, kid. Your moment will come."

"Yeah, yeah," Jesse said, sticking his smoke between his lips and lighting it. He breathed in the smoke, exhaled through his nose, and grinned when Reyes waved his hand in front of his face and stopped dead, putting out a hand to stop Jesse as well.

"You're not supposed to smoke in here," Reyes growled.

"Since when did you care--" Jesse began, then stopped. They were right outside the infirmary.

Sheepishly, Jesse stubbed out the cigarette on the back of his leather glove, carefully scraping the burning ash away until it was out, then he shoved it into his pocket for later. "Sorry," he muttered.

Reyes smirked at him, then opened the door and they headed inside. They navigated a maze of curtained off beds, headed for the intensive care wing. Jesse hadn't been this far into the medical wing before - in fact, he hadn't been back here since the mandatory physical he'd been given on his first day. He wondered why Reyes was taking him to meet some sick person. 

Well, he'd find out soon enough. 

They pushed through another door into the ICU, and Jesse's ears popped as the differential pressure equalized. Another couple of twists and turns later, and they finally reached their destination.

Dr. O'Deorain stood in the hallway, gazing through a window into another room. She was dressed in a suit with a lab coat over it, as always, her hands clasped behind her back as she watched whatever was going on. At their approach, she turned and inclined her head to them. "Greetings," she said. "Bringing the new recruit to meet our newer recruit?"

"How's he doin'?" Reyes asked, stumping up beside her and taking a look.

"Dr. Zeigler informs me that he will begin his field qualification soon. I understand he's eager to get started, but his body is still adjusting to the implants."

Uncertain of what he was about to see, Jesse stepped forward and peered through the glass. Beyond he saw what looked like a high-tech physiotherapy room. A man wearing an odd helmet, with a breathing apparatus over his face, was walking very slowly on a treadmill, attended closely by Dr. Zeigler, whom Jesse had met before.

Not only was the man's face covered with metal, but his arm and legs were as well. In fact, as Jesse looked closer, he realized that the arm and legs weren't armoured, they were cybernetic. His jaw dropped open. The rest of his body was visibly scarred, but what kind of damage would have to have happened to require the man's entire lower half to be replaced with cybernetic legs?

"Jesus H. Christ," he muttered. "What the fuck happened to _him_?"

As if he had heard him, the man turned his head towards them. His eyes glowed red, and narrowed, and Jesse raised a hand to wave. He looked Asian, though it was hard to tell with so much of his face covered up. The guy turned away without acknowledging Jesse's gesture, and Jesse wondered if it was one-way glass.

"Jesse McCree, meet Genji Shimada, the fourth and final member of our team," Reyes said. "He's probably not up to chatting with any visitors right at the moment, but you can meet him properly when he's walking unassisted." Moira rolled her eyes. 

"He was brought in to us gravely injured a few months ago," she said, spreading her hands. Her painted nails glittered under the harsh overhead lights. "Dr. Zeigler had to invent entirely new medical techniques on the fly merely to keep him from dying on the table. He's only just gotten out of bed, and you're already decided he's worthy of being made a part of _our_ team?"

"Moira," Reyes said. "He's a cyber ninja. Of _course_ I'm adding him to the team."

He glanced at Jesse, who found himself grinning back at him. "A cyber ninja? Well hell- _o_ there. I can't wait to get acquainted proper-like to a guy like that. I bet he's bad ass."

Moira sighed and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. "Of _course_."

~ ~ ~

_Today..._

Jesse hadn't meant to fall asleep in the arms of a drunken monster. He would have expected that if he _had_ done something so fucking stupid, he'd have woken up the instant the asshole moved or breathed or did _anything_. 

Instead, he woke at dawn, befuddled, and lay there in the most comfortable bed he'd ever been in, wondering why he felt so weirdly safe. 

A moment later, he realized what he'd done and bolted upright, his heart racing, but the room was empty. Hanzo Shimada was gone. Somehow, the yakuza boss had managed to get out of bed, dressed, and left without disturbing Jesse. 

"Fucking cyber ninja," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Only without the cyber part," he added thoughtfully.

Next, it occurred to him to wonder why he'd been allowed to sleep all night instead of being returned to his cell. He'd only just begun to consider that when the door slid open and two guards - two he'd gotten to know _very_ well over the past week - poked their heads into the room. They flanked his latest nemesis, Houji Tanaka.

"Ah, a very good morning, sunshine," Tanaka said sarcastically, speaking in heavily accented English. "You should be grateful to your customer from last night." 

Jesse got to his feet, ignoring the fact that all three men were staring at his naked body, and reached for his thong. "Why's that?"

"He must have liked you very much. He paid for your services for the entire night - though I see he didn't use them. He must have been called away. I commend you for your skills and commitment, as it made me much money and brought me honour."

Jesse's lips twisted, though he hid the expression from view. He had his back to Tanaka and the guards, dressing while he had the chance. "That's great," he said. 

Fuck, he needed a cigarette. They had taken his smokes away when they captured him, along with his Peacekeeper and the few pieces of equipment he'd brought along with him. Thankfully, since he'd been on a side-op, he hadn't been carrying anything identifying, or that could be traced back to Overwatch. Unfortunately, since he'd been on a side-op and they had taken away his equipment, including a tracker that only activated when it was in contact with his skin, Overwatch would have no way to figure out where he was in order to rescue him.

Tanaka's sing-song tone darkened. "However, don't think that because you've earned the favour of an important man that anything changes for you. Understand?"

Jesse buttoned his chaps, buckled his belt, and put his hat on his head, then turned around and regarded the other man neutrally as he walked towards the threesome. Tanaka's expression was twisted into a sneer. "I got it. Who'd you say that man was, again?"

"I didn't. Such details are unimportant for you to know." One of the guards reached out a paw and grabbed Jesse by the arm, yanking him into the hallway. Tanaka laughed cruelly, and took the lead, while Jesse was marched down the hall. "All that matters to you is the next fuck, isn't that so?"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's right."

Tanaka snorted. "So disrespectful. I can't imagine what you did to earn such kindness from a man like him."

This time, at least, Jesse had an honest answer and explanation. "I give good head."

That was all it had been. Hanzo Shimada hadn't been what Jesse would have expected from a psychopath who would try to kill his own brother, but he also knew that psychopaths could put on a good show. He had met more than a few in Deadlock - men who seemed kind, charming, funny, but when they had you in their power - well Jesse had a lot of nightmares, but some of the worst had come from men like that. 

The only bit that didn't fit was why Hanzo had bothered to put on a show that elaborate for Jesse. Jesse was a prisoner, a prostitute. Hanzo had no reason to suspect that he might be more than that - an agent of Blackwatch, and a comrade of his brother Genji. Not to mention a trained killer in his own right. From Hanzo's perspective, he should have had no reason to try to impress Jesse. 

He worried at the question like a sore tooth all the way down the stairs, through the empty main entertaining parlour, and then through the door into the "staff only" basement, where the most recalcitrant of the prostitutes were kept. As always, the sounds of soft crying greeted them as they headed down the stairs, but Jesse had already learned to tune it out.

His musings were interrupted by the banging of a door as his cell was opened. He looked into the sorry box that was his home now, with a threadbare futon on the floor and a single blanket, a chemical latrine that was little better than a hole in the floor, and that was it.

"What, I don't get a shower?" he demanded.

"You should have taken advantage of your holiday and prepared yourself better for your customer's return instead of sleeping away the hours," Tanaka sneered. "You can scrub off before your next shift. I'm sure you'll have someone to entertain tonight, and you had better not smell like the horse you resemble. Perhaps, if you're very fortunate, you will see last night's customer again." 

Now that was an interesting idea. Jesse took a moment to fantasize about that. Maybe next time he'd take his chance to rid Japan of one of its greatest threats - and give Genji a bit of peace, knowing his murderous brother had been removed from the world. 

Jesse was shoved bodily through the door, which banged shut behind him and locked securely. He kicked the futon mattress in frustration, and turned back to Tanaka. "I'm gonna get out of here, you know!" he snapped. "And you ain't gonna live long after that!"

Tanaka's laughter trailed away as he headed back upstairs and cut off abruptly, when the door shut.


	3. Chapter 3

"Shimada-sama, a moment of your time, please." 

Hanzo paused and turned, watching with some wariness as one of his business associates approached. 

He had just completed a meeting, which meant he had spent the last three hours presiding over a boardroom while family members and closely-connected, important business associates debated drug trade routes, discussed the latest technological innovations in weapons, armour, military vehicles, and cybernetic enhancements, and bemoaned the possibility of another Omnic uprising. 

Several recent shipments of weapons and drugs had been attacked, which was causing particular consternation. As of yet, it was unknown whether it was a coincidence or if there was a pattern to the misfortune. Some believed there was a mole within the family. Hanzo considered that unlikely, but said little.

In some ways, he imagined his job was much like the CEO of any company. It wasn't the form that was different - amongst modern yakuza, it was the content.

Everyone had already begun to file out, and it was unusual for him to be called back by anyone, but there were any number of reasons why someone might wish to speak to the Kumicho without anyone else overheading. The only thing was - few of those reasons were innocent.

"Of course, Yamamoto-san," he said. He stood aside, allowing the others to depart, and leaving himself alone with the older man. Well, except for their body guards - each of them had one, but their presence was so ubiquitous and unimportant, they were practically invisible. "What could not be discussed in front of the group?"

Yamamoto was a short, balding man, well into his sixties, gently rotund and had a tendency to sweat when put on the spot. He wasn't a blood member of the Shimada family - not even a distant one. His family had risen to prominence within the group generations ago and been granted an association. Hanzo couldn't remember at the moment if some ancestor of Yamamoto had saved the life of one of his own ancestors or if he had distinguished himself in some other way, but it was unimportant now.

"This is a personal matter," Yamamoto said. He was sweating.

Hanzo's eyes widened. "A personal matter? Explain."

"A moment, please. I wish to show you--" He pulled out his wallet and opened it up. With the tap of a button, a holo projector activated, and a teenaged girl sprang into view. She was standing amongst willow trees, smiling too widely at the camera, holding an umbrella resting against her shoulder. Her teeth were very white, and her hair elaborately coiffed.

_Oh no._

"This is my granddaughter, Minako," Yamamoto said, beaming with pride. "Is she not beautiful?"

"Quite," Hanzo said neutrally. 

"She will be nineteen in two months," Yamamoto went on eagerly. "She is a sweet girl, and very intelligent, charming and yet well-mannered. I expect that she will be beginning at Tokyo University in the coming year. She's just completing her entrance examinations at the moment, and she's quite committed to her studies. She is interested in pursuing a degree in chemistry, but she also has a keen interest in completing a business diploma. I have heard her speak with pleasure of joining the family business once she has completed her schooling."

"You must be very proud." 

Yamamoto nodded. "It would honour me greatly if you would meet her, Shimada-sama. I believe an opportunity could present itself next week, if you would allow her to come to the dinner you are holding at the castle."

Hanzo paused, mortified, though he kept his expression utterly blank. He was holding a function at his own home in a week's time. It hadn't been his idea, it was just one of those things he needed to do from time to time, and technically the invitation was open not only to people like Yamamoto, but to their families as well. 

If he gave Yamamoto the go ahead to bring his daughter - no, dear god he was offering up his _granddaughter_ , though she was only five years younger than Hanzo himself, it seemed like a lifetime of difference - then he would take it as encouragement. If Hanzo was seen talking to the girl, everyone might believe that they were courting. Yet if he spurned her, Yamamoto would also be offended.

Not only that, but to turn him down completely would be even worse. He was caught, and would simply have to navigate the party as best he could, without giving the wrong impression.

"Of course, she is most welcome to come," he said calmly. "After all, the party is intended for family. I'm sure she will enjoy exploring the grounds. Hanamura is beautiful this time of year, and the view at night is particularly stunning."

"Ah yes, I have taken in the view many times," Yamamoto gushed. "Perhaps you would honour me further by giving her a tour, if it's not too much trouble. I have no doubt she would be thrilled by such an opportunity to see the castle."

"Perhaps," Hanzo said, smiling through gritted teeth. "Now, I truly must go. It will be a pleasure to see you and your granddaughter - what was her name?" 

"Minako," Yamamoto supplied, face falling slightly as he put the photograph away. Hanzo had scarcely glanced at it. "Yamamoto Minako, ah, naturally. She is my eldest son's daughter."

"Minako," Hanzo repeated. "Naturally. Excuse me." He turned, pushing the door open, and sensed his guard fall in behind him. 

"Ah, Shimada-sama, thank you very much!"

Hanzo murmured a perfunctory response, and escaped. As he walked out of the room, another man hailed him - his mother's brother, Sakamoto Asahi.

"Shimada-sama, do you have a moment--"

Dreading another, similar encounter, Hanzo waved a hand and gave the man a curt bow. "Apologies, Uncle. I am in a hurry. Can it wait?"

Sakamoto paused. He was a tall man, greying, and shared many of Hanzo's facial features, though a fondness for cyber pleasure drugs had given his eyes a glassy stare even when he was lucid. He bowed as Hanzo moved past. "Of course, Kumicho. It is not urgent. Another time."

"Thank you."

Hanzo felt tight bands pressing around his chest as he walked, only easing once he had reached his car and settled into the back seat, with his guard in the front, driving. He drew in a great lungful of oxygen as the car emerged from the underground lot and merged with the traffic onto the street.

Had Yamamoto heard about his tryst with the cowboy? It had only been a few days, and Hanzo had found his thoughts turning to the young man over and over, to the point where at least one person had accused him - politely, oh always so politely - of woolgathering. 

It was also very possible that the offer was a coincidence. The party was only a week away, and Hanzo was well into the age where marriage was a distinct possibility, yet he didn't date. People had been throwing their daughters at him for years now.

He was sure that most people believed that his refusal to court was a political decision. He didn't want to show anyone too much favour. He was keeping the family off-balance, and keeping his options open. However, the offers would soon grow more forceful, he suspected, as people began to jockey for position in earnest. Surely he couldn't go too long without producing an heir, though normally it wouldn't seem so urgent. Men could father children well into their late life. 

He, though, didn't have that luxury. Hanzo was the last of the central Shimada line. The only living person with the genetic abilities to control the dragons. If something were to happen to him without a successor, the entire Shimada-gumi would be thrown into chaos. 

His mind shied away from that topic, and - as it too often did these days - turned right back towards the cowboy. It was too much to hope that James also had enjoyed their time together. Perhaps he dreaded the possibility that Hanzo would return.

But why would he? Hanzo had treated him well, all things considered. 

There were other options. The face of a smiling girl floated in front of his vision, and he grunted with distaste. 

"Sado, go to Tanaka Houji's club," he said to his driver, and then sank deeper into his seat, fighting against an obscure feeling of shame. Why shouldn't he indulge himself for once in his life? He had nothing of importance to do this evening. He was one of the most powerful men in the city, and yet he never used those resources for anything, really.

It was time for Hanzo to have something for himself. Even if he didn't deserve it.

Forty minutes later, the car pulled around to the back of the brothel. The sun was still up, Hanzo realized with some level of horror, but the VIP door was sheltered from casual view, so he could go inside without exposing himself to onlookers. But should he? Was it strange for him to be here so early? He had no idea.

"Wait," he said, before Sado could shut off the car's engine. "I. I want to go shopping first."

Sado glanced up at him, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the rear view mirror. "Yes, boss," he said softly, and pulled back out of the parking lot.

Hanzo buried his burning face in his hands. 

Two hours later, Hanzo stepped through the VIP door. He carried a wrapped box, the package free of any identifying marks that might hint of what lay inside. 

Though it was barely past the dinner hour, the brothel was nearly as busy as it had been the other night. Hanzo stood unsure for a moment, looking around, and spotted Tanaka speaking with a customer. He hastened towards his cousin. 

"Tanaka-san," he said. 

Tanaka froze in shock, then whirled around, his eyes widening. "Ah! Shimada-sama, I had not dared to hope that I would see you again so soon." He scurried over to Hanzo and spoke in a quieter tone. "Are you here to see the cowboy? Was he not delightful? Or could I offer you something... more refined? Perhaps there's someone else more to your taste?"

Hanzo's mouth was dry and his heart was beating far too quickly. He swallowed, trying to unstick his tongue. "Ah, the cowboy will suffice, if he's... available." 

A horrible thought occurred to him. What if he _wasn't_ available? His mind stuttered at the very idea, though he knew intellectually that the other man likely had slept with many other people just in the last few days. How many, though? One? Two?

A dozen?

Hanzo's stomach churned, and he fought to keep his expression passive. Maybe he should have made an appointment. Was that a thing people did?

To his relief, Tanaka beamed. "Of course, for you my cousin, he is certainly available. He is merely resting at the moment, as his next shift was not meant to start for another hour, but I will rouse him for you."

"That's not--" _necessary,_ Hanzo almost said, but he bit off the words. It _was_ necessary - of course it was. Hanzo had come all the way here, and he wasn't sanguine about waiting for an hour in this environment. It wasn't too much to ask that James start his working shift a little early, after Hanzo had given him so much time to rest. He nodded. "I appreciate your efforts and willingness to make an exception."

"Excellent. And the same room is available, I do believe." Tanaka waved a passing staff member over and conferred with him briefly. The staff member blinked, looked at Hanzo, and then rushed away. Tanaka gave a deep bow and gestured towards the stairs. "Yes, I have confirmed that the room is available. It was to your liking?"

"Very much," Hanzo said. 

"Then please, make your way there in your own time. The cowboy will be up shortly. Sake?" he offered.

"No, ah, not tonight."

Tanaka bowed again. "Enjoy yourself, cousin," he said with a smirk that made Hanzo's cheeks begin to heat once more. Hanzo nodded and turned away quickly before the embarrassment could show, and made his way to the stairs, clutching his package in his hands hard enough to slightly dent the cardboard.

Hanzo reached the door, took off his shoes and entered, but the room was empty. He glanced about, then set the box down on the table where James had poured his sake the other day. Then he set out to actually explore the room, which he had not bothered to do before.

Through a door, he found a luxurious bathing room, with a deep soaking tub and an array of perfumed oils and other luxuries. He also found a couple of silk bathrobes of various designs. One of them was a deep purple with a pattern of coiling blue dragons. The pattern appealed to him deeply, and he wondered if Tanaka had somehow anticipated his arrival and left it for him intentionally.

Surely not. Though... it was possible. He had arrived earlier, after all, and left. Tanaka might have received word and deduced that he would return. 

That possibility left a bad taste in his mouth, but after some consideration, he changed into the robe anyway, leaving his clothes in a cubby that was apparently there for the purpose. After a long moment of consideration, Stormbow in its case was slid into the cubby as well.

As he tied the belt on the robe, he heard the door beyond slide open and then closed. Hanzo's heart immediately began to beat more quickly.

He spent a short time fussing with the collar of the robe, retied the belt, and tightened the tie on his hair. Then he gazed at himself in the mirror for a few moments, evaluating what he saw from every angle. 

Then, feeling foolish, he squared his shoulders and walked out into the main room.

The cowboy was seated in the single chair, fingering the box thoughtfully, dressed in the same costume as on their last encounter. The moment Hanzo walked out of the bathing room, James snatched his hand away from the box and leaped to his feet. "Woah! Didn't know you were in there." He looked Hanzo over, amber eyes trailing obviously over his body from feet to shoulders and back down. "You're lookin' pretty as a picture tonight. What's the occasion?"

Hanzo felt his cheeks heat once more at the regard. He swallowed, though his throat was dry. "Thank you. There is no occasion. I merely wished to see you - I mean, to enjoy your services again."

"Lucky me," James drawled. Try as he might, Hanzo couldn't detect the sarcasm that he suspected should be there.

Hanzo tried not to look at the box, his brain worrying at what he should do next. He didn't want to create any great ceremony around its contents, so he wished to distract from it, and reveal the box's contents at an appropriate juncture. The problem was, James was between him and the box. 

Inspiration struck, thankfully. "There are other robes in there," he said, raising his chin. "Go select one and put it on."

James cocked his head, then smirked. "What, you don't want me naked?"

"Not yet." Hanzo somehow managed to deliver the words without blushing or stammering again. He was making progress.

"All right," James said. "You're the boss." 

He sauntered past Hanzo, intent on the door. Impulsively, Hanzo reached out and caught James' wrist. The younger man hissed softly - in surprise, Hanzo thought - but stopped and looked at him quizzically. Hanzo, greatly daring, leaned forward to kiss him. 

James turned his head away, and Hanzo froze. Those tight bands were back, squeezing his chest, until it was difficult to breathe. "Am I-- Is that inappropriate?" he asked. His eyes dropped in his disappointment, despite his best efforts, and his gaze fell by chance upon the wrist he was holding. 

Now his breath stopped for an entirely different reason. There was an angry red band around each of James' wrists, as if he had been tightly restrained. No wonder he had reacted with pain a moment before - Hanzo's fingers had pressed right on top of the injury.

"Naw, naw, babe-- Sorry, I was all thinkin' about how I was gonna pretty myself up to be even half as nice as you, and I didn't realize you were wantin' a kiss," James was saying, the colloquial-laced English difficult for Hanzo to understand in the midst of his surprise and growing anger. The next thing Hanzo knew, James had pulled his wrist from his grasp, only to catch him by the chin and raise his head up to meet a sweet and hungry kiss.

Hanzo gasped in startlement when those lips met his, the kiss rough with stubble and James' lips slightly chapped. His mouth opened on the noise, and James' tongue was suddenly in his mouth. Hanzo grabbed for James' shoulders as his knees went weak, clinging as he made a rather pathetic whimpering sound before he could stop himself.

James broke the kiss first, and Hanzo opened his eyes, catching him grinning rather smugly. "You're so eager, it does my heart good to hear it, but it ain't that good for my ego. If you ain't careful, my head'll swell so big it won't fit through the door."

Hanzo sniffed at that, but despite James' efforts, he hadn't forgotten about his wrists. "I'm sure you'll manage to keep your pride in check. But I must ask - are you hurt? Is Houji mistreating you?"

To his dismay, James' expression shuttered, though his smile didn't falter. "How 'bout I go get all pretty for you? Won't take me a minute." James turned and strode away into the bathroom. 

Determined, Hanzo followed. He planted himself like a tree in the doorway and watched as James undressed with his back to Hanzo. "If my cousin is harming you, then I will have a word with him about it. There's no reason for him to compound the situation you're in by inflicting pain upon you, even if you did try to rob him," he said. 

James did his best to distract him, it appeared, by posing in provocative ways as he pulled off his clothing. Hanzo was quite proud that he managed to get through the sentences without stammering, though he could feel his ears turning red. When he finished his statement, James turned to look at him over his shoulder, his expression inscrutable.

"What happens when you ain't here ain't your problem. Why spend time fussin' about it? I'll be here for you any time you want me, darlin', don't you worry about that."

"That is _not_ the nature of my concern," Hanzo hissed. Another thought hit him, and he balled a fist. "And I knew it. You _do_ know who I am. You didn't even blink when I said that Tanaka Houji was my cousin."

"I don't know who might be whose cousin," James said sweetly, his lips twisting with amusement. "As I recall you didn't give me your name yet. But you could still be his cousin, why would that be so surprising?"

"You're correct, I did not give you my name," Hanzo said. He pointed straight at James. "Yet last time, you called me Shimada."

James' expression froze for a moment, and then he smirked. "I did what, now?"

"Do not pretend," Hanzo said smugly. "I am perfectly sober _this_ time. You cannot lie to me. I will know."

James was completely naked now. He turned back to face Hanzo square on, and leaned forward a little. "Oh yeah? You good at detecting when people are lyin' to you?"

Hanzo stood his ground, looking up at the looming American. "Very good," he said crisply. "I must be, in my line of work."

"Well, am I lyin' when I tell you that before I was sent up to see you, your _cousin_ told me I'd better be a good little fucktoy to 'Shimada-sama' or he'd tan my hide?"

Hanzo gazed up into those muddled hazel eyes, and try as he might, he couldn't detect a hint of falsehood in either James' gaze or his posture. "You... you appear to be telling the truth," he admitted.

"Well, there you go, then." James turned away to look through the options for clothing, selecting a midnight blue robe with chrysanthemums on it. "You like this one, babe?" he asked, holding it up.

Hanzo nodded, still thinking about their exchange. Thus far, James had shown little ability to lie to him, so he had to believe that he was telling the truth. Hanzo's initial conclusion that James knew who he was had to have been a mistake. "It is beautiful."

"Then it's the one." James donned the robe and clumsily tied the obi in a half-bow. The knot immediately began to slip and he swore, struggling to tie it tighter. 

Hanzo stepped forward, huffing. "The silk is too fine to tie it like that. It will always slip." He batted the man's rough hands away lightly and took hold of the obi, tying it in a proper knot so that it would stay snug around James' waist. It was a little difficult to do it backwards, compared to doing it on himself, and it took him a few moments before he was pleased with the results.

"Never did learn to tie a tie proper," James said. His hand came up and he began to toy with the length of Hanzo's ponytail, brushing the tip of it along the side of Hanzo's neck. "Guess this is a little like that."

"Did you have no father to teach you?" Hanzo asked, shivering at the tickling feeling of his hair along his skin. He looked up, and saw James frown. "Apologies," he said. "Perhaps I should not ask you about your life before this."

James shrugged, though his eyes had that remote, shuttered look again. "Naw, darlin'. My pa got killed in a firefight when I was seven, or so I heard. He ran off practically before I was born, so I never knew him." He let go of Hanzo's hair, but continued the caress with his fingers, brushing the tips down the nape of Hanzo's neck. His thumb came to rest over Hanzo's pulsepoint, then rubbed up and down.

Hanzo shivered, tingles chasing themselves up and down his spine. He was having a little difficulty catching his breath, and he realized that he had been standing before James for several seconds, his hands still resting on James' belt tie, and gazing up at him. He couldn't imagine how ridiculous his expression had to be.

"My... my father is dead, as well," he said, foolishly. How could he try to relate his own experience to James' father's abandonment? "He died a little less than a year ago." 

"Sorry to hear that," James said, though there was little warmth in his tone.

"I am not," Hanzo said. "My father was... was not--" He looked away, brows furrowing. There was no point in hiding the truth, not from James. What could someone like him do with anything Hanzo told him? "My father was a monster," he said. "A cruel man. I did not mourn his death."

James said nothing, the caress continuing. His fingers brushed along the hem of Hanzo's collar, and then back up, following his hairline.

"My name is Hanzo Shimada," Hanzo said softly. He didn't expect that James would know the name, though in deference to his American customs, he reversed the order of family name and given name. "I am the Kumicho - the leader - of the Shimada clan. I was given the position after my father's death."

"You're yakuza, right?" James said, to Hanzo's surprise.

Hanzo looked up. James' expression was wry, his lips twisted with amusement. "Correct," Hanzo said.

"Thought so, on account of the tattoo. Don't yakuza get tatted up like that?" James said. 

Hanzo touched his own forearm, wrapping his fingers around the painted skin. "This is not a yakuza tattoo," he said. "But you have one, too." He gestured to James' own left arm. The tattoo James had was rough, clearly done with inferior tools, quite a contrast to Hanzo's tattoo's jewel-like tones. "Does that tattoo have significance?" He noted that the cowboy's belt buckle was almost a match.

"What, this?" James let go of Hanzo and turned his arm over, looking at the tattoo as if seeing it for the first time. "Yeah, it's just somethin' I got when I was too young to know better." He immediately dropped his arm, turning it back so the tattoo was almost hidden.

Hanzo sensed that James didn't want to discuss this, either, so he let it go for now. "Come, we have dressed, we should take the opportunity to get more comfortable."

"More comfortable than this?" James asked, breaking into a teasing grin. "Lead the way, Kumicho."

Hanzo twitched, but let that go for now as well. He turned and stepped back into the main room, deftly scooping up the box as he passed the table. Hopefully they could turn to more pleasant activities now.


	4. Chapter 4

The monster was back, and he was smitten. Jesse couldn't really say he was surprised - you didn't pay thousands of dollars to let a whore sleep alone in a bed when you weren't impressed by them - but he hadn't really expected a reaction like this from the likes of Hanzo Shimada. 

Jesse still hadn't decided how to use this to his advantage, but at least the man was easy on the eyes and didn't have any kinky or violent fetishes - at least, none that had revealed themselves so far.

In fact, Jesse found himself enjoying the encounter once again. Hanzo was soft spoken and polite - _insanely_ polite, actually. He kept pushing Jesse into uncomfortable territory, though, while at the same time being so contrite about it that it was hard to get pissed off at him. Even when he went on with all that crap about giving Tanaka a 'word' about the bruises on Jesse's wrists. As if that would go over well.

Jesse did his best to deflect the apparently-well-meaning yakuza mob boss onto topics that wouldn't get Jesse's ass beat, and it mostly worked. 

And then Hanzo had accused him of knowing who he was. 

Jesse had to hand it to him, he was a shrewd and paranoid motherfucker, which also shouldn't have been surprising. Thankfully, Jesse didn't even have to lie - at least, not very much. Tanaka _had_ said exactly that - though maybe not in those words, and he hadn't actually said Hanzo's name. Still, it was close enough, and believable enough, that Jesse was able to give an explanation for how he'd known Hanzo's last name without trying to make up a story whole cloth. 

Still, it was pretty nervewracking. When the yakuza boss glared into his eyes, Jesse could almost believe that he could see right into his soul and know whether he lied or not.

So the guy _could_ be scary when he wanted to be. Those sorts of moments kept reminding Jesse that this was a man who had tried to murder his own brother in cold blood for power, when he otherwise might have been charmed by his blushes and sweet gestures.

Gestures like possibly having brought Jesse a present on their second damn encounter. As Jesse followed Hanzo out of the bathroom, he saw the older man pick up the mysterious box Jesse had noticed before, though he saw with some amusement that Hanzo tried to be subtle about it. 

"Let us sit on the bed. I meant to ask you, did you sleep well after I left the other night?" Hanzo asked.

Hanzo suited action to his words and climbed onto the bed, but instead of getting comfortable, he knelt like he was going to break into a meditation session or something, the box in front of his knees. James stood by the bed for a moment, struggling to figure out how to answer Hanzo's question without getting himself into more trouble. He didn't want to let Hanzo know that his actions had pissed Tanaka off. 

Belatedly, he recalled that Hanzo wanted him to join him. He clambered onto the bed and stretched out on his side in front of Hanzo, head pillowed on his palm.

By then, he'd come up with a benign way to evade the truth. "Yeah, you know, I didn't even know you'd left. I got a hell of a good night's sleep."

"Good," Hanzo said in a satisfied tone, and Jesse relaxed. 

Then Hanzo's manner turned downright businesslike. "I know that you are uncomfortable with accepting kindnesses from me, but I hope that you will understand that what I offer is meant sincerely. In this case, as well." He pushed the box closer to Jesse. "If it makes you feel better, this is something that I hope that we can share together, not a gift to you."

Jesse sat up, crossing his legs, and picked up the box. Despite the fact that Hanzo had just insisted that it wasn't a gift, he sure was acting like it was. "You want me to open it?"

"Please. It is a mere nothing, but I hope it will pass the time."

Man, he sure was nervous. Jesse broke into a teasing grin. "You got a sex toy in there?" Hanzo blushed.

The truth was, he hadn't received all that many gifts in his life. He raised the box to his ear and shook it, curious about what was inside.

"Stop!" Hanzo snapped. 

Jesse froze, his heart suddenly beating triple-time. Hanzo's expression was stormy as hell, and Jesse felt a cool sweat break out on his skin. It was _so damn easy_ to forget just how dangerous this man was, when Hanzo was giving him that sweet song and dance, but once again Jesse saw the mob boss in the man's expression. 

He abruptly recalled that he was a prisoner of this guy's cousin - a cousin who no doubt worked for Hanzo. In many ways, it was Hanzo who owned Jesse right now, just like how-- His mind shied away from those particular memories as he waited to see if he was going to be punished for whatever he'd done wrong.

Yet in moments, the anger vanished like clouds clearing before the sun, and Hanzo actually looked contrite. "I mean, please, be careful. The contents are breakable."

"Oh, okay. I gotcha." Jesse spoke almost on autopilot, yet it really did seem like - against all odds - he was out of the woods. 

Jesse lowered the box to his lap and opened it, truly having no idea what to expect. The moment he saw what was inside, his eyes widened. He picked up the bottle of amber liquid and read the label with his jaw slack. "This ain't no ordinary bottle of Jack Daniel's."

"It's aged thirteen years," Hanzo explained earnestly. "A small batch lot, so it should be of decent quality. I hope it is acceptable."

 _What the actual fuck?_ The label actually had gold leaf on it. Real gold leaf. Jesse looked up and stared at Hanzo. "How much did you pay for this?"

That stormy look was back, but tempered by confusion. That question probably hadn't been very tactful.

Hanzo answered it, though. "Ah... the equivalent of six hundred of your American dollars. It is imported, obviously, so likely overpriced. Is it not good?"

"Not good?" Jesse wanted to smack a hand to his forehead. Did this guy really not get it? "Darlin', I've drunk moonshine out of a glass that ain't been cleaned in the last week and called it good enough. This is - this bottle of whiskey is worth more than anythin' I've ever owned."

"Oh." Hanzo blinked slowly, realization dawning in his dark eyes. "Would you like to try it?"

Jesse's shock lasted only a fraction of a second more, then he grinned, excitement surging. "Hell yeah. Let's crack this baby open." He broke the seal and Hanzo fished the two glasses out of the box. The glasses were just as nice, embossed with the elaborate JD logo and something about the 250th anniversary celebration. 

Abruptly, Hanzo slid off the bed and disappeared. To Jesse's amusement he heard the sink going and realized that Hanzo was washing the glassware. He couldn't help but shake his head at that. Hanzo was cute and dangerous as a rattle snake, and on top of that, he was OCD or something. _Ah well, as traits go, being crazy particular ain't the worst so long as he doesn't beat my ass for taking a more relaxed approach._ Which to be fair, Hanzo had yet to do.

Once Hanzo finally got back with freshly washed glasses, Jesse poured them each a generous two fingers worth, mourning the lack of ice. Then again, if this Jack was half as good as he suspected it would be, he wouldn't want anything added into it.

Jesse held up his glass and then clinked it against Hanzo's. "Cheers."

"Kanpai," Hanzo agreed, and they drank.

Jesse missed Hanzo's reaction to the drink. The moment he tasted the liquor he closed his eyes and gave a heartfelt groan of pleasure. He opened his eyes and saw Hanzo staring at him in that startled way that told Jesse he was aroused despite himself. Jesse grinned, drained the glass, and poured himself a second, twice as full as the first.

Yeah, okay, this wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. Jesse topped up Hanzo's drink and decided to get more comfortable. He moved the empty box off the bed and settled onto the pillows, glass resting on his stomach and his left arm splayed out comfortably. It seemed like Hanzo took the gesture as the invitation it was meant to be, because after a short hesitation, Hanzo snuggled up into the crook of his arm. 

Jesse nursed the drink. There were a couple of reasons to do it - first, because you just didn't want to ever get sloppier than the guy paying for your time. And second, because he didn't want Hanzo getting pissed off by Jesse killing the entire expensive bottle in one night. This was Hanzo's liquor, after all, it wasn't right for Jesse to drink too much of it.

"You're a precise kinda guy, huh?" Jesse said after a few minutes. He grabbed the bottle and made it out like he was pouring himself another whiskey, then topped up Hanzo's again. "You like things just so."

"Discipline is vital to a clear mind and successful life," Hanzo said. Jesse rolled his eyes.

Hanzo definitely seemed to be enjoying the whiskey. He drained his glass again, then peered suspiciously at Jesse's. Damn, had he caught Jesse out? 

Despite a sudden curl of nervousness in his stomach, Jesse smirked at him, made a point of taking a healthy gulp from his own glass, then reached for the bottle again. "Well, I think you've gotta have a little fun in life. You want a bit more, darlin'?"

"Enough," Hanzo said abruptly. "You're trying to get me drunk."

 _True._ "A disciplined guy like you?" Jesse teased. 

To Jesse's consternation, Hanzo set his glass aside. "It wasn't my intention to finish the bottle tonight."

Jesse shrugged, drained his glass and set it down, then ran a hand down Hanzo's side, his palm coming to rest just south of his hip. That was good to know. "Fair enough. If you come back, you can bring it back, and we can work on it some more. It's probably somethin' to savour, anyways, not like the turpentine I usually drink."

Hanzo sighed and shifted closer, drawing up a leg to rest his knee on Jesse's thigh. Now that was a nice position. Jesse's fingers rubbed up and down on the back of Hanzo's leg, making the hem of his robe ride up, but not quite touching him more intimately just yet. 

"I meant," Hanzo said, sounding slightly distracted. "That you can keep the remainder of the bottle."

Jesse snorted softly before he could think better of the honest reaction. "Yeah, right."

"I mean what I say." Hanzo said, his voice rising with frustration.

 _Damnit, he's getting riled up now._ Jesse had to distract him and reassure him before things got bad. He grasped Hanzo's hips and pulled him up. Hanzo gasped at the manhandling, but didn't struggle, and settled into a comfortable position straddling Jesse's lap. Jesse kneaded at his bare ass, enjoying how the silk robe rode up to expose him from behind. 

The move seemed to have distracted Hanzo again. The mobster looked startled and vulnerable, cheeks flushed once again as he wrapped his arms around Jesse's neck like they were dancing at prom.

"I know you mean it, darlin'," Jesse reassured him. "I didn't mean nothin' against you. But there ain't no way that your cousin's gonna let me keep a bottle that fine in my cell."

Hanzo scoffed. "He will do it if I tell him to." He scowled. "I have words to have with him anyway, about the injuries."

This was too much. "Stop it, Shimada. You don't have to play this game." 

The moment the words had slipped from Jesse's mouth, he regretted them. Hanzo stiffened visibly, scowling, but after a moment's hesitation, he spoke with a tentative tone. "You truly would prefer that I maintain a fantasy while here, pretend that all is well, and that I forget about you when I'm not here."

Jesse's lips twisted at the too-honest assessment, and then he forced a smile. He let go of Hanzo's ass with one hand and pulled out the tie from his hair. Hanzo's hair cascaded to frame his face, and Jesse buried his fingers in the soft locks. "That's what I'd prefer, yeah."

Hanzo looked down and sighed. "Of course, as you wish, then."

"You're sweet as pie when you want somethin'," Jesse murmured. "How about you tell me what it is?"

Hanzo drew a breath and let it out, then gave Jesse the most charming shy look he had yet seen from the man. "I would... like to taste you, as you did for me last time."

How could a guy like this be so adorable? Jesse was having an honestly hard time squaring the scars he'd seen on Genji's body and soul with the man he was currently groping. If it weren't for Jesse's own experience with gang leaders, he'd be starting to think maybe Genji was wrong about what had happened.

But he just had to remind himself that all that meant was that Hanzo was a hell of a lot more dangerous than he seemed.

Of course, there was no reason in the world why Jesse couldn't accept that proposal anyway. His smile was far more genuine now and he gave Hanzo a pat on the ass. "Now that is the best idea I've heard all day."

Hanzo smiled and leaned forward. This time, Jesse submitted to the kiss without getting weird about it. Earlier, he had turned away on impulse, feeling a queer protectiveness about the whole idea of kissing anyone while he was here, but he knew it wasn't something he could get away with for any length of time. Besides, if he had to kiss someone - at least Hanzo kissed sweetly.

Though he didn't kiss like he'd done it all that many times. 

Jesse cupped the back of his head, tasting the whiskey on Hanzo's tongue and giving a soft moan of encouragement. Hanzo always seemed to let Jesse take the lead on kisses, which was nice, and Jesse did enjoy plundering his mouth. He drew back after a few moments, sucking on Hanzo's lower lip and then giving Hanzo a smirk.

"Go on, then," Jesse purred, and Hanzo flushed.

He sure looked nervous. 

Hanzo also had a look of determination on his face, however, and Jesse wasn't sure he could dissuade the guy now. He scooted down, pushing Jesse's legs apart gently and kneeling between them, just as Jesse had done the last time. Jesse watched him, resisting a strong urge to pour himself another drink. To keep his hands busy, he toyed with Hanzo's hair instead, tugging on those beautiful straight black locks, and then allowing his fingers to drift over Hanzo's skin. 

He touched the tattooed shoulder, and Hanzo shuddered. "Not there," Hanzo said. Despite the words, he didn't sound angry. 

"I ain't gonna hurt your ink, babe," Jesse said. "It's gorgeous, anyway."

Hanzo looked up, and met Jesse with a startlingly intense expression. "I said. Not there."

Jesse jerked his hand back as if he'd been stung by a bee. The look hadn't been scary like before, but it sure was the expression of a guy who expected to be obeyed. "Sorry."

"Do not be sorry, merely obedient in this regard," Hanzo said, lowering his gaze again. "That is not for you." 

Hanzo had pushed Jesse's robe up to bare his crotch and his head was bent, so he couldn't see the scowl that Jesse felt on his own face. 

Jesse didn't trust himself to reply for a minute, his chest pulsing with irritation. Just when he was starting to like the guy, he came out with something fucked up like that. 

Finally, he swallowed the feelings and gave Hanzo a playful tug on the hair. "You just gonna worship it, or are you gonna suck on it?"

Hanzo was silent for a moment, then spoke. "I am-- I am attempting to figure out how it will fit," he said.

 _Fuck me. And just like that, the switch is flipped again,_ Jesse thought, rolling his eyes. This time, the grin was easy to bring to his face. He grasped his own dick in one hand and put his other hand to the back of Hanzo's head, gently guiding them together. "You don't gotta take it all at once. Just start with the tip. No teeth, just use your tongue. Try like licking a lolly-pop."

"Very well," Hanzo said, and opened his mouth, taking the head of Jesse's cock between his lips.

Jesse groaned encouragingly and settled into the pillows, toying with Hanzo's hair and stroking himself slowly. The hand on his cock would keep Hanzo from going down too far, but he figured that was probably for the best, with a newbie. Either way, the combination of Hanzo's tentative suction and his own practiced hand felt nice as hell.

Slowly, Hanzo seemed to gain confidence. He bobbed his head up and down slowly, his tongue swirling around the head. The asshole had a _tongue piercing_ which Jesse had noticed before, and it scraped gloriously over the sensitive skin. Hanzo was such a mess of contradictions, but Jesse decided he liked this one.

His breathing sped up and his heart began to pound. His hand moved a little faster, and Hanzo's lips bumped against his fist. With a sound of frustration, Hanzo seized him by the wrist and pulled Jesse's hand away from his dick. Jesse made a protesting noise, but Hanzo wrapped his own fingers around the shaft and began to pump, better able to keep a steady rhythm in time to what he was doing with his mouth.

His clever, excellent mouth. This guy learned pretty fucking fast.

"Fuck, goddamnit, Hanzo," Jesse gasped as the pace began to increase. Hanzo was taking far more of him than Jesse had ever expected him to do on the first go-round, and his hot, wet mouth felt incredible. "Fuck me, darlin' you are incredible."

He knew he was running his mouth, which always got him into trouble, but he couldn't stop. He kept up a filthy, pleading, stream of praise as his body tightened and his heart raced. Finally he gasped and arched his back, his cock jerking as his climax moved through him like a wave. Hanzo gasped and pulled away, but it was far too late, semen pulsing from Jesse's cock as he orgasmed.

Jesse groaned with contentment and cracked an eye open, then grinned. Hanzo looked supremely disgusted, wiping off a bit of semen that had struck him in the face, and then apparently not knowing what to do with himself. He held his hand out like it was soiled, apparently unwilling to wipe it off on the blanket, either.

Jesse caught him by the wrist and brought the moist hand to his own lips.

"What are you doing?" Hanzo protested, and then fell silent, his eyes wide and pupils blown as Jesse casually licked the semen from his fingers.

"So," Jesse said. He had already cleaned Hanzo's hand, but he sucked his index finger into his mouth again, and swirled his tongue around the finger before allowing it to come free with a pop. "Did you enjoy that?" He gave Hanzo's middle finger the same treatment.

"I..." Hanzo was still staring at his mouth. Jesse finished with his middle finger, and went on to the next one. "Yes," Hanzo managed in a strangled tone, clearly struggling. "It was. Interesting."

Jesse finished up with Hanzo's pinkie. "Well, I gotta say I enjoyed it a hell of a lot, so thanks. You want me to return the favour?"

Hanzo's cheeks pinked once more, and he nodded. "That would be-- Yes, please do."

Jesse grinned and wrapped his arms around the other man, laying him down on the pillows. "Like I said before - sweet as pie when you want somethin'."


	5. Chapter 5

James' mouth was just as delightful the second time he pleasured Hanzo with it as it had been the first time. Once again, as James stimulated him with his tongue and lips, Hanzo was left gasping and shuddering with delight until his climax had completely shattered his dignity. 

He lay still against the pillows, his hair fallen like leaves across his face, utterly spent and certain that he looked both debauched and ridiculous, but for once he didn't care to maintain any kind of poise. Why should he? James wouldn't think less of him, and Hanzo shouldn't care if he did. 

James wrapped his arms around him, and pulled Hanzo's back against his chest, curling around him. Hanzo made a perfunctory effort to brush his hair out of his face with his fingers and straighten his robe, but gave up quickly. James buried his nose in the back of his neck, inhaling as though Hanzo smelled as sweet as cherry blossoms.

Hanzo supposed James was used to the rank scent of male sweat, and perhaps he did enjoy it. He certainly seemed to have no difficulty with various bodily fluids and other unpleasant things. It was possible he had simply come to appreciate such things, given his history and experience.

James ran a gentle hand down Hanzo's side and hip, and then back up. Hanzo noticed that James avoided touching his left arm now, which was reassuring. The nanotech embedded in the tattoo - part of how he controlled the dragons - responded to stimulation in his body and mind. Even now, he felt them roiling under his skin, a not unpleasant sensation and one he was used to, but when James had touched him so freely, it had bordered on over-stimulation.

Besides, it was simply inappropriate for James - or anyone else - to sully the Shimada dragons with his touch. He could no more allow that then he could permit James to touch his bow. Perhaps one day, there would be a person in Hanzo's life who could be so free with his body, though Stormbow would never be touched by any hand besides Hanzo's.

Either way, though he knew James likely didn't understand why he had forbidden it, he was pleased that James nevertheless obeyed the restriction.

Eyes closed, Hanzo rested in James' arms. Inevitably, however, his mind turned to other matters - as though the cares he had outside of this room were like an ocean riptide, dragging him away to sea. Soon, he knew, he would need to leave. Sado was waiting for him, as he was paid handsomely to do, and would return him to Shimada Castle for another long, sleepless night in a cold bed. And tomorrow, Hanzo would have unpleasant duties to attend to, as he did every day.

Yet in this room, he had no such duties. He could do what he wished, and James would accommodate his every whim with a smile and skill. It was quickly becoming addicting. He could understand why James had pleaded with him to remain in the moment, and not to worry about outside matters. Surely this was a similar escape for him.

James' hand came to rest on Hanzo's chest, and Hanzo laced his fingers with the other man's. He inspected the man's hand, looking at the fine lines of scars, the still-angry red of the bruises on his wrist.

"I do not wish to go," Hanzo whispered. 

"Then stay a spell," James murmured against the back of his neck. "You got somewhere to be?"

"Not tonight," Hanzo sighed. "But tomorrow and tomorrow and the tomorrow after that. There are always things to do."

"Must be hard, havin' such an important job," James said. His thumb was rubbing back and forth across Hanzo's wrist, which made him want to shiver. 

Hanzo shook his head. "I have no cause to complain, and should not. Particularly to you." He sighed. "Yet, I feel as trapped as you are, at times."

"What'd ya mean?"

How could he explain this to James? What he endured was nothing compared to being a prisoner as James was. The man had endured hardship and deprivation such that Hanzo likely couldn't comprehend. "It is nothing," Hanzo said. 

"Hey, now." James gave his fingers a squeeze. "You can talk to me."

Hanzo hesitated. Talking about personal matters... that was something he had avoided his entire life. He couldn't talk to anyone about anything. His father had been distant and cruel. His mother unavailable, and she died when he was young. The rest of his family would only use anything he said in their constant squabbles for power and favour from him. Servants could not be trusted, as they were frequently spies. He had no friends.

And Genji... He could not think about him.

But could he talk to James? Perhaps he could, about some things. Obviously nothing specific about his clan or business, but the man was powerless, and had no contact with anyone from the Shimada clan other than Tanaka Houji - and James clearly had no desire to help the man who kept him prisoner.

He drew a breath. "You will think it a foolishness, but I will give you an example. My clan wishes for me to take a wife. It is my duty to produce an heir, yet I feel disgust at the thought of being with a woman the way that you and I have been. I have no interest in this, yet I know I have no choice."

"That ain't foolish," James said. "If you only like men, that's just the way it is, and there ain't no shame it it, neither. Personally, I never saw what difference it made, but I know not everyone feels the same way. But people adopt kids and there sure are a lot out there who need it. And I'm guessin' Tanaka ain't your only family. I know I ain't from your sort of background and I don't know much about these things, but couldn't you name an heir, or get one somewhere without having to have sex with a woman?"

Hanzo was silent for a moment, startled by the thoughtful response. Despite James' demurral that he knew little about such matters, they were both good suggestions - or would be, if it weren't for Hanzo's particular circumstances. "I'm afraid neither of those options are viable," he said. "The Shimada line has remained unbroken for centuries. Only one of my line, the central line of the family, can lead the clan. I cannot adopt another who does not share my blood, because they would be unable to control the dragons."

"Dragons?" James asked, his fingers stilling against Hanzo's skin. 

"A Shimada has an ability shared by no other in the world," Hanzo said. "It is complicated and the details are unimportant. It is a genetic uniqueness, and I-- I am the last of my line. If I do not produce an heir, of my own blood, the Shimada ends with me."

"You don't got no brothers or sisters?" James asked. He kissed Hanzo on the back of the neck, but Hanzo could take no pleasure in it. He had gone rigid, and he couldn't unbend. 

"No," he said. "No, I... I had a brother, but he died."

"Sorry to hear that," James said. 

There was a strange note in his voice, overly cautious. Hanzo's mind swirled. Was it possible that James had heard about Genji? Did people talk about Hanzo's shameful murder of his brother? No one had mentioned him to Hanzo's face - it was as though Genji had never existed. It had never occurred to him that people would spread such filth around, talk about him - talk about _Genji_ \- as though their battle was a salacious bit of gossip. 

But how else would James know? Or was Hanzo just being paranoid again?

"Hey now," James said, his voice now taking on an alarmed note. Hanzo realized he was still stiff and trembling, his shoulders tight and his fingers clenched into fists so tightly that he was probably hurting James. "You all right, darlin'? Did I say something?"

Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on his breathing, trying to force his muscles, one by one, to unlock and relax. "Forgive me," he said finally. "I do not discuss my brother's death."

"You must've cared about him a lot," James said softly. 

Hanzo wanted to deny it. The word 'no' was on the tip of his tongue, but it was a vicious lie, and disrespectful of his brother's memory. It would be easier if it were true.

"We do not discuss him," he said instead, his voice coming out in a harsh rasp.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry I brought it up." James petted him gently, stroking his hair and chest and rubbing his un-inked forearm, making soothing noises. Hanzo slowly felt his emotions come under his control again, and he calmed. 

Dizzily, he tried to pick up the thread of what they had been talking about before the subject of Genji had come up. "I...apologize," he said. "We... we were talking about children. You suggested that I name an heir from a branch family, but that is also not a solution. If such a thing were possible, the very act of doing so would still throw the clan into confusion. My naming of a branch member would restructure the entire power hierarchy of the clan, as I would be favouring one branch over another. This would be disastrous."

"Huh. Can't even imagine havin’ to worry about stuff like that," James said.

"Yes," Hanzo said. There truly was a gulf separating them, and yet Hanzo found it uncommonly easy to unburden himself to James, because he was so far beneath him in power that the man was no threat. "I appreciate you listening to me," he said softly. "I have no one else I could speak to in this way, and this issue weighs upon my mind in particular tonight."

"Hey, I don't mind. S'all part of my job, really. But why's it on your mind right now?" 

"Before I came here, one of my top advisers asked me to meet his daughter," Hanzo said. "There is a function at my house in a few days and it was impossible for me to gracefully turn him down. Now I find myself in an uncomfortable situation, where I may have to entertain a possible suitor I have no interest in." He sighed and unlaced his fingers from James', then brushed his hand across James' hairy forearm. "Hence the fact that I wish to stay here with you. It is shameful of me to hide from my duty, yet here I am."

"I get the feeling that your duty is a big deal to you, too," James murmured. "Can't say I've got a brilliant solution."

"I don't expect you to, when I have been unable to come up with one," Hanzo said. "It is enough that you listen, and do not laugh."

James snorted, which wasn't quite a laugh at Hanzo's expense. "Darlin', whatever your problems, it ain't funny business. It's real enough to you and frankly, I can see why you'd be bothered by it. But either way, even if you've gotta have a sham wedding and lie back and think of England on your wedding night, you've got me here when you want me, if that makes it easier."

"You're suggesting that I keep an American prostitute as a mistress," Hanzo said, startled by the very idea.

"Uh." James seemed equally startled. "Well no one's ever called me a 'mistress', before..."

Despite himself, Hanzo gave a soft laugh. "No, I suppose not. But there isn't an equivalent term for a man, is there?"

"Darlin', no one ever called me erudite in my life. If you've got a dictionary, I could look, but I don't think it's in there."

Hanzo turned over and looked James in the face. "Did you just use the word 'erudite'?"

"May have," he said. "Ain't it the right word?" There was a twinkle in James' eye and his lips were quirked up at one corner. 

"James, you are the most contradictory man I have ever met. I cannot decide if you are a fool or a genius manipulator," Hanzo said. Nevertheless, he twined his arms around James' neck. Though his words were true, he couldn't recall ever feeling so safe.

"Trust me, darlin', I feel the same way about you," James said. "And that's the honest truth."

Hanzo kissed him, and they spent just a little longer ignoring his duties in favour of something far more enjoyable.

Afterward, they drowsed for a while. When Hanzo judged that James was asleep, he carefully extricated himself from the other man, and slid off the bed, padding on silent feet into the bathroom to change. He pulled Stormbow out of the cubby and set the case down on the floor, then he removed the robe, beginning to dress.

"Goin' so soon?"

Hanzo hissed and whirled around, settling into a fighting stance automatically. James raised his hands, eyes wide. "Woah, don't shoot."

Embarrassed, Hanzo straightened. It was probably lucky that Stormbow was folded up and in its case. "My apologies. I didn't hear you get up."

"Huh," James said innocently. "Well, sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on ya."

"Hmm." Hanzo buttoned his shirt, eyeing James closely, but let it go. It was possible he was _too_ relaxed, and too trusting. Maybe he had just been lost in thought. "Well, yes. I should go, much as I'd prefer to stay until morning, that would be inconvenient and awkward."

"Right," James said, flashing a grin. "Well, don't be a stranger."

Hanzo picked up Stormbow and the box containing the whiskey and glasses, and then stepped up towards James. "I shall not," he said, realizing it was true. He had made a decision, it seemed, that he _wanted_ to return. Regularly. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

He tilted his head up, and James kissed him softly, then moved out of the way. Hanzo moved past him, headed for the door.

"What's in the case?" James asked suddenly. Hanzo glanced back and saw him standing in the doorway to the bathroom, leaning against the doorjamb with his thumbs hooked in the silk obi of his robe. 

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with," Hanzo said, but he softened his words with a smile. "Until next time, James."

James gave him a casual salute, and Hanzo left.

He headed downstairs silently. It was very late, well after midnight now, and yet the party downstairs did not appear to have abated. He had no interest in being observed as he left, but he did have to find Tanaka. Luckily, his cousin was easy to find. Tanaka was standing by the bar, chatting with a businessman that Hanzo recognized.

Hanzo walked over to his cousin. The businessman Tanaka had been talking to blanched at the sight of Hanzo and made an excuse, moving away while Hanzo approached. "Cousin," he said. "I am leaving now."

Tanaka beamed. "I hope our services were to your liking. Can I expect your return soon?" he asked unctuously. 

"I expect so," Hanzo said archly. "But there is a matter we must discuss."

"Of course, of course." Tanaka rubbed his hands together. "Was there something not to your liking?"

"Correct." 

At that single word, Tanaka's eyes widened with horror and his mouth opened in an 'O' shape. 

Hanzo relished the expression for a few seconds, allowing the man to sweat, before continuing. "The young man has been injured in your care. His wrists are bruised from restraints that were too tight. Explain this."

Tanaka's mouth closed. He winced, shifting from foot to foot. "Ah, my dear cousin, of course you understand that the boy is here to please any and all customers. Some of them have unusual tastes. We do, of course, have rules," he added hastily. "You needn't be concerned that he'll be maimed or scarred. Bad for business if he's unable to perform."

Hanzo stared at him for a long moment, allowing Tanaka to fully appreciate his displeasure. "Of course," he said finally. "I would not presume to tell you how to run your business." He gave another significant pause. "Naturally, if it is necessary to perform his duties, that is only to be expected. But I would assume that you and your staff treat him with basic respect and consideration, as you do with all of your... assets. He is a prisoner, and belongs to the Shimada-gumi now, but his life and usefulness will be shortened if he is punished with unnecessary cruelty. That is also bad for business."

Tanaka's face reddened, and then went pale. "Yes, cousin," he said. "I assure you that I and my staff behave appropriately with all of our... assets."

"See that you do," Hanzo said. He turned and began to leave. "You may return him to wherever he is housed between shifts, now," he said. "But his shift is over for tonight. Bill me."

"Good night, cousin," Tanaka called after him. "See you again."


	6. Chapter 6

_Nine months ago..._

Genji hated the hospital wing at Overwatch Headquarters more than any place he had ever been in his life, including his own ancestral home, which he had loathed with every fibre of his being. Of course, he had been confined to a small wing of the hospital for over three months, and so it was no wonder he was getting sick of it. And as he tracked the days, counting down towards a possible release from his prison, the anticipation had only made it worse.

Then again, every minute of his life - waking and asleep - since his arrival had been unending torture. 

It was even uncomfortable for Genji to simply lie on his back. The insertion points of the cybernetic implants had had to be made mid-back between the thoracic and lumbar vertebrae, to bypass the place where Hanzo had severed Genji's spine. Therefore, the cot Genji slept on had had to be altered so that the insertion points themselves didn't dig into his skin. However, nothing could change the fact that his nerves felt like they were on fire every minute. 

With those painful nerve connections in place, Genji could walk. It was worth it.

Angela Zeigler had been his doctor initially, but eventually she had given way to Moira O'Deorain. The Irish woman stood by his bed now, examining a readout on the scanner. Genji held as still as he could, lying on his custom-made bed, hearing the alien noises of the equipment he didn't understand and smelling nothing but filtered air through his facial mask, just waiting for word.

"Point your toes," Moira ordered. 

Genji grimaced behind his mask and obeyed. 

"Now wiggle them."

He glanced at her. The sensors in his eye implants narrowed on her face, noting the half-smile on her lips. "Don't fuck with me, doctor."

Her smile vanished and she arched a brow. "I see your sense of humour hasn't improved." She leaned closer. "Wiggle your toes, Mr. Shimada. It's for science."

"Genji," he hissed through gritted teeth. While he still had his full name listed on his records, he preferred not to hear his surname - the name of a family he felt only shame to be a part of. 

"Very well," Moira said with a smirk. "Wiggle your damn toes, _Genji_. That's an order."

Genji wiggled his toes.

"How's the pain at your nerve insertions?"

"Fine."

"Hmm," Moira said doubtfully. "All right, you can stand up now. McCree, come in."

She scarcely raised her voice, and yet the door opened instantly upon the last surprising sentence. Genji pushed himself up to sit and swung his cybernetic legs over the edge of the bed as this 'McCree' came into the room.

He was a cowboy.

He wore a battered hat on his head, jeans, a large belt buckle, and a revolver hanging low on his hip. His skin was browned by the sun, quite a contrast from Genji's own pale and sun-starved skin after so long in a hospital bed. As he entered the room, the man's head was lowered as if out of respect to Genji's essentially nude state, his hand raised to the brim of his hat. But he raised his head and dropped his hand away and as his face came into view, Genji realized that he was no older than Genji himself, in his early twenties at best.

Once, Genji might have found his appearance charming and interesting. He'd have eagerly sat beside him and gotten his story, and likely flirted with the man. He had no such interest, now. All he really wanted to know was why this stranger was intruding on his life all of a sudden. 

He pushed himself off of the bed onto his feet. There was a pulse of pain as he straightened. His knees and feet held, though, what was left of his flesh thighs settling into place within the prosthetic legs without any difficulty. 

He straightened, taking a deep breath of filtered, oxygenated air, and looked silently at the newcomer.

Moira set down her tablet. "Jesse McCree, this is Genji Shimada. Call him Genji - he's touchy this morning."

Jesse broke into a crooked smile and offered his hand. "Pleased to meetcha proper like, Genji."

Genji contemplated the hand with surprise. His right hand was metal now, upgraded at his request to contain shuriken in the forearm. Did the man actually want to clasp hands with him? He seemed sincere, but as Genji stared in confusion, Jesse's smile quickly faltered and he lowered his hand. 

"Ah, sorry," Jesse said, raising the hand to the back of his head to rub the curly hairs escaping from under the brim of his hat. "Guess you bow or somethin', right?"

Now Genji was embarrassed. He hadn't meant to snub him, exactly. He had just locked up, unsure of what to do. 

All he could do was bow. "Yes, we do. What do you want with me, McCree?"

Moira sighed. "Genji, McCree is a member of our Blackwatch field team, which you will be joining once you've been qualified. Today, I have asked him to come here to show you to your room."

Genji stiffened and turned his head to stare at her. "My room?"

"Yeah, congrats," Jesse said, more cautiously than before, but back to smiling widely. "Looks like you're gettin' out today."

"Unless you feel you aren't ready," Moira said, with another of her ironic half-smiles.

Genji straightened. Nothing could have stopped him from going through that door, even if he'd had to crawl. "I am more than ready. Please lead the way."

"Well that's the spirit. Come on, then," Jesse said, and stepped back out through the door he'd come in. Genji followed. 

Every step caused a jolt of pain through his spine, but Genji scarcely felt it. The halls and rooms of the hospital went by in a blur, and before he knew it, he had stepped out into the hall beyond. He had never been through this door before, knew nothing about the layout of the building, and could only follow Jesse McCree.

They entered an elevator and Jesse pressed the button, then leaned against the wall and turned his ever-present smile on an overwhelmed Genji. "How's it feel to get a breath of fresh non-hospital air?" Jesse asked brightly.

"I don't-- I can't breathe the air," Genji said stupidly. "I have to breathe filtered air fed to my artificial lungs."

Jesse's eyes widened, and he glanced down. "Oh." 

Genji winced slightly. He knew he was probably putting the other man off, but the thought of trying to apologize or explain himself was exhausting. He said nothing, folding his arms and looking away as an uncomfortable silence fell upon them.

Jesse kept quiet this time as he led Genji down a hallway to a numbered door. "Here you are," he said, more subdued. "I'm just across the hall, so... ya know, my door is open if you need anythin'. Any time."

The man was being kind. He probably disliked Genji already, but at least he was being professional. 

"Thank you," Genji said. "I look forward to working with you." 

To Genji's surprise, Jesse brightened immediately, like the sun coming from behind the clouds. "Yeah, me too. I can't wait to get out into the field. Bet you're spoilin' for a fight even more than me."

Genji started in surprise, looking up at the taller man. "You haven't been in the field yet?"

"Naw, I'm qualified more’n a month ago, but Reyes has been waitin' until our field team is complete before sending us out. So you'd better get qualified fast, or I'm gonna go stir crazy." He grinned. "Just kidding. You take all the time you need."

"Believe me, I will not hold you back. I have no wish to stay idle longer than necessary," Genji said solemnly.

"Great, then I think we're gonna do fine," Jesse said cheerfully. 

For a moment, Genji thought he was going to take his leave, but Jesse only took a single step back and looked Genji over, hooking his thumbs in his belt. Genji suffered the observation with discomfort, wondering what the man saw. Jesse was a handsome young man, fresh and hale and healthy. Genji didn't know where this man had come from or why he was in Blackwatch, but Genji doubted that McCree had expected to have to work with a broken half-man like Genji.

Finally, he seemed to come to a conclusion. He laughed and tugged on the brim of his hat. "Ain't we gonna be a pair, huh? An outlaw and a ninja. Who'd a thought two people like us would be workin' together as spies."

Genji blinked, taken off guard by being called a ninja instead of many other words he might have used to describe himself. But not only that, he was surprised by the word Jesse chose to label himself with. "Outlaw?"

"Yep. Got a price on my head," Jesse said sheepishly. "I got mixed up with somethin' I shouldn't've and got caught. Reyes pulled me outta prison to come work for him, and I couldn't be more grateful." He sobered, looking at Genji anew. "I hope that ain't gonna be a problem for you, workin' with a criminal? I've put that life behind me, and gladly."

That was a lot of surprising information at once. Genji had to take a moment to gather his scattered thoughts. Perhaps the short walk from the hospital wing had tired him more than he realized. 

Jesse's smile faltered even further as the silence drew out, and finally Genji found his voice again. "No, I would be a hypocrite. My family is yakuza." He clenched his fists, one flesh and one metal. "My brother is the head of our family. He tried to kill me, to secure his position. That's how I came to be here. While I have no love for his kind of filth, I know people are pulled into criminal activity for any number of reasons. What matters is what you do now."

The speech was longer than he had intended, and Genji fell silent, exhausted by the effort. He truly did need to cut this conversation short and spend some time alone, but he waited stubbornly for his new teammate's response. 

Jesse's jaw was slack, but thankfully Genji didn't have to wait long for a reaction. "Your own brother did this to you? God damn..." He shook his head, and Genji saw his eyes grow cold. "Well, I hope there comes a day you can put things right."

Revenge. Genji nodded and clenched his fist again; the springs in his arm worked, and three shuriken slid perfectly to sit between his metal fingers. He gripped them for a moment, relishing the thought of burying them in Hanzo's eyes, then released them and they disappeared back into the compartment in his arm. "Yes," he said. "One day, I will meet my brother again, and on that occasion my sword will not falter."

"Sounds like it's nothin' but justice to put that man down," Jesse said. He grinned and tugged at the brim of his hat. "Well, then, I'll let you get settled in. Don't be a stranger."

Jesse turned away, and Genji was grateful for the prospect of solitude, but some urge made him call him back. "McCree... why did you become a criminal?"

Jesse had opened his door, which truly was just across the hall. He paused, hand on the doorway, and glanced over his shoulder. "I was eight, and my momma got sick. I started runnin' errands for the Deadlock gang. The money was good, and they practically ran the town where I lived. They were the only ones to go to."

Genji lowered his gaze. "My family works in a similar way, corrupting the innocent and desperate. I understand. My apologies for asking."

Jesse shrugged, and offered a sardonic smile. "We both have a chance to change things for ourselves, right? What happened in the past is behind us, and maybe now we can use the things our criminal families taught us to do something good."

Genji nodded. "Yes... yes I think you're right." 

"'Course I'm right. I always am." Jesse flashed a subdued smile at him, and then turned to disappear through the door.

Bemused, Genji entered his room, ready to begin his new life.

~ ~ ~

_One month ago..._

Jesse was in the shooting range when Gabriel Reyes came looking for him. He paused to reload and saw his Commander standing just off to the side, arms folded, and watching.

Startled that he wasn't alone, Jesse tugged down his protective headphones and directed a casual smirk at the older man. "Here to learn how a _real_ gunslinger handles his weapon, Commander?" he teased.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I oughta turn you over my knee for that comment, McCree," he grumped. "I'm here with an assignment."

He untucked his arms and revealed he had been holding a tablet in one hand, which he held out to Jesse with a grin. Jesse took it and flipped it over, scanning the text, struggling to hide his excitement as he read it over and realized what he was looking at.

A solo mission.

He'd been working with Blackwatch now for nearly a year, but this was the first time he'd been given an assignment on his own. 

"You serious, Commander? I'm goin' to Japan?" he asked, his eyes wide as he looked up at the older man. "Alone?"

"It's just recon," Gabriel said, clapping Jesse on the shoulder and leading him out of the range. "We've received intel that Talon might be stepping up their operations in Japan, and we need someone they won't recognize as connected to Overwatch to go in there and do some investigation. Based on what you find out, Blackwatch or Overwatch may decide to run a full op, but at this stage we have to be cautious not to let them know we're sniffing around."

Jesse nodded. "But... Japan? I don't even speak the language and my ass is gonna stand out like a sore thumb. Why not send Genji? He's just as new to Blackwatch and no one's gonna recognize him with all his..." He gestured vaguely at lower half of his own face. "Besides, he's a ninja. Probably no one will see him at all."

"No, not this part of Japan. I'm not sending Genji anywhere near that place." Gabriel said seriously. He reached over Jesse's arm and tapped the screen, bringing up the map. He zoomed in to show the city where Jesse would be going. "In fact, Genji isn't going to be finding out about this mission at all if I can help it. You see that?" He poked a small patch of green in the middle of a dense city centre. "That there is Hanamura. And in the middle of that quaint village is Shimada Castle, where our little Genji grew up."

Jesse's jaw dropped. "Wait, I thought you said this was Talon. Does Genji's asshole brother work with Talon?"

"Not so far as we know," Gabriel said. "But that's exactly why we're worried. If Talon is expanding their territory into Hanamura, then that might mean that they're forming an alliance with Hanzo Shimada - or already have. That's one piece of information we need to know. If Talon's getting into bed with the Shimada group, then they're both gonna get a lot more dangerous real fast."

Jesse voiced a few choice swear words, then nodded. "When do I leave?"

Gabriel grinned. "Good boy. You leave tomorrow. Pack your bags."


	7. Chapter 7

Hanzo had truly intended to spend more time with James after their pleasant second encounter, but the week had flown by. He had been so busy with meetings and problems that he had scarcely had time for target practice and meditation, let alone anything pleasant.

Now it was the evening before his planned party, and he finally was able to carve out a few hours to himself. He felt like he was drowning, in fact, his stomach twisting with anxiety at the public spectacle he was going to have to host, and the unpleasant things he was going to have to partake in. But he knew one thing that would help to calm his nerves, and he just had to reach out and grasp it.

He finished putting his signature to the latest version of the accounting reports - the public ones, not the real ones - and pushed himself away from his desk. Yes, tonight would be a good night to indulge himself.

He reached for Stormbow, but his fingers paused when he heard a soft cough at the door.

He looked up to see his Uncle Asahi standing in the doorway. "Nephew, I hope I'm not interrupting, but there is an urgent matter."

 _Yes you are._ "No, of course not. What is wrong?" Hanzo asked, straightening up. 

"There's been another hijacking. One of tonight's shipments has been attacked."

Hanzo felt a pulse of anger. It was bad enough that he had to deal with these matters when they were mundane and routine, but now yet another shipment had been hijacked? Who was so careless? This was starting to get out of hand. "What did the shipment contain?"

Asahi seemed caught off-guard by the question. "Ah, I believe it was pills."

"Illegal drugs?"

His uncle pulled out a pad, consulting it. "No, this one was just methylphenidate, not a controlled substance. That's why we could ship it by sea, but the van never made it to the cargo ship."

Hanzo grabbed the case containing Stormbow. "How long ago?"

"I had hoped-- What?" Sakamoto Asahi blinked at him. 

"How long ago did the shipment get hijacked?" Hanzo asked grimly.

"Ah, minutes ago. One of the drivers called it in when the attack began."

Hanzo marched towards the door so quickly that Asahi had to dodge out of the way. The taller man scurried to follow him as Hanzo continued on down the hall, consulting his mental map of the city. He knew where the pharmaceuticals were manufactured, and Asahi had mentioned the sea, which gave him enough details to recall which operation it had to be. "That shipment was to run from the facility down to the docks for shipment to Korea, correct?"

"Ah, yes, Shimada-sama," his Uncle said, confused. "Where are we going? I was hoping to discuss--"

"I'm going there. Sado?"

"Yes, sir." The bodyguard was right behind them. He had been standing outside of Hanzo's door.

"Do you know where you're going?"

"I'll figure it out, sir."

"Shimada-sama," Asahi gasped. "You can't be serious."

Hanzo looked at him. Asahi was a close family member, one of Hanzo's saiko komon, and involved at a high level in both the drug trade and weapons manufacturing. It wasn't strange that he was taking a personal interest in these attacks, as some of them had fallen to shipments under his own responsibility. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention so quickly. Are you coming along?"

Asahi's steps checked, then he lengthened his stride again to catch up. "I will come, if you wish me to."

"It matters not to me. Come or don't come. I'm going."

"What could you possibly do?" Asahi asked as they hit the elevator and began to descend. "You are the scion, Hanzo. Let the shateigashira do his job, or if he continues to fail, then replace him."

Hanzo glared at the numbers above the door as they counted down. "I want to see it for myself."

There was a silence. "Of course, kumicho," Asahi said, with a bow.

Hanzo resisted the urge to scowl like a petulant child. The doors opened and Hanzo strode towards his car.

Sado drove them down to the location, wending his way through the city that surrounded the small neighbourhood of Hanamura where Shimada Castle was located. Hanzo watched out of the window, observing the crowds of late-travelling salary-men and -women, the fashionable young people showing off their colours, and the elderly out for a leisurely walk through the city. None of them had to deal with vans being attacked by criminals.

"Kumicho," Asahi said delicately, after the silence had drawn out for too long. "There was a matter that I meant to discuss with you. It is, in fact, related to this attack."

Hanzo blinked and turned his head to look at his uncle. Right, in all of his anger he had scarcely noticed that his Uncle had been trying to say something. "Of course, what is it?"

"With all of these attacks, I believe the shipments require additional security."

"We've discussed this," Hanzo said, frowning. The issue of increased security had been a hotly debated topic for weeks, and Asahi had been one of the most vociferous arguing against any drastic changes. "Surrounding our shipments with armoured cars or gangs of security personnel would only draw attention to them. Our business relies on stealth as much as anything."

"I've investigated a firm that offers protection through the use of remote drones. They would be able to monitor the shipments subtly, without it being obvious that they're under additional protection. The drones themselves could not only have weapons attached, but would also allow recordings to be made. If a shipment was attacked, even if we lost that shipment, we would learn who the perpetrators are," Asahi explained. 

Hanzo considered this. Engaging an outside security firm carried a number of risks, and he could understand why Asahi hadn't brought such a radical idea to the attention of the full board. Most problems were dealt with through employing internal resources, not trusting strangers. "How do they feel about contracting with a criminal organization?" he asked wryly.

Asahi spread his hands. "I am confident that they're aware of the nature of our business. They did not appear to be bothered by that."

Not necessarily a point in their favour, but Hanzo couldn't exactly throw stones if this company had no problem with getting into bed with criminals. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, toying with the piercing there. "We can't go into business with someone who may be a spy for a rival. And I am not comfortable with using drones with wireless transmission. Something like that would be easily hackable, and that would make them worse than useless."

"Kumicho, please, don't make hasty decisions," Asahi said soothingly. "How about if I set up a meeting with their representatives? There's no harm in learning more."

"Almost there, boss," Sado said. The car was slowing, and Hanzo realized they had passed out of the fashion district and were now moving through a relatively quiet coastal street. To one side were featureless warehouses. To the other Hanzo could see large hulks of old anti-Omnic warships rusting on the shore and out in the bay.

Hanzo thought about it, but waved his hand. "No. We will find a way to deal with this situation internally, as we've always done." As Asahi's expression darkened, Hanzo thought quickly. "It is an... innovative idea, Uncle, I appreciate you are trying to think outside the box, but let us not move too hastily. We cannot trust outsiders."

A muscle jumped in Asahi's throat and Hanzo knew he was upset, but Hanzo was secure in his decision. He would just have to get over it. And indeed, Asahi bowed politely. "Thank you for your consideration."

The car came to a stop. Up ahead Hanzo saw the flashing lights of police, and his heart began to beat faster. He gripped the handle of his case, and noticed that Asahi gave it an uneasy look, but he had no intention of pulling Stormbow out here. Hanzo reached for the door handle.

"You're certain, Kumicho?" Asahi asked.

This was too much. Hanzo shot him a severe look, tired of being questioned. "Enough, Uncle. Stay in the car if you prefer cowardice." Asahi paled slightly, but remained where he was as Hanzo opened the door and stepped out of the car.

The vehicle that had been attacked was a nondescript van. It lay on its side, and the cab was facing away from Hanzo, but he did see several burned holes from some kind of weapon peppering the rear of the van. The rear door had been peeled open as if with a can opener, and the dark interior of the van was empty. A body lay some distance from the scene, and the entire area had been cordoned off by police. Another body lay on the ground near the front of the van, with several EMTs working on it frantically.

Hanzo strode towards the police tap line, and stopped when a police officer hurried towards him, a hand out. "Sir, sir you may not pass here."

"Who's in charge?" Hanzo asked.

The young man looked him up and down doubtfully, eyes flicking around as if unsure of what he should do. "Ah, that would be Captain Ito, he's right--"

"Shimada Hanzo, you've come down from the castle yourself, have you?" A tall man in his late fifties strode towards Hanzo, clutching a tablet in his hand.

"--Over there," the young man finished. 

The captain shoved the tablet into the young officer's hand. "Get that over to forensics. Go now." The young officer scurried away obediently, leaving Hanzo and Ito alone.

"Captain Ito," Hanzo said, giving a bow. "How is your wife?"

"Fine. The same as always. She's taken to spending more time at our son's house with the grandchild than she does at home," Ito said, grimacing. "I come home to an empty dinner table and half the time an empty bed. At least, when I _do_ come home, since I work so much. But I can't complain. Our son is useless, and his wife can't even cook. They need her help to keep my grandchild from starving to death."

Hanzo nodded politely. He had met Ito and his wife practically before he could walk, and Ito had been taking bribes and favours from Hanzo's father for Hanzo's entire life. It was one of the reasons why Hanamura continued to be relatively safe from law enforcement - all of the police in the surrounding city were essentially working for him.

"Perhaps you should invest in some lessons for your daughter in law. You don't want to be alone at your age," he said.

Ito snorted and then laughed, his voice cracking from the damage caused by overuse of opium pipes. "If you think any of those kids listen to me, you'll understand better when you're my age and have children of your own. Speaking of which, when are you getting married? Any prospects, young man?"

Hanzo coughed, thinking of the girl he was dreading meeting tomorrow night. "Ah, none as of yet, I'm afraid. Soon, perhaps."

Ito clapped Hanzo on the back, startling him, and turned away. "Good boy. Don't let them snare you too early. Get a good one, one that makes you smile - you'll need it. You're far too serious for your own good. You'll have ulcers if you aren't careful."

"No doubt," Hanzo said, following the direction of Ito's gaze towards the van. "What can you tell me, Captain?"

"This your van?" Ito asked, arching a brow and casting a sidelong look at Hanzo.

Despite the fact that Ito was - or claimed to be, in private - firmly on the side of the Shimada, Hanzo had chosen this shipment in particular to investigate for a reason. Since it didn't contain anything illegal, there was no fear that he'd implicate himself by allowing someone to connect him to the crime. 

"My van," he said. "Ritalin, bound for the hyperactive children of Korea."

"Sure, sure," Ito said, rolling his eyes. "You're a damn philanthropist. You know they mix that stuff with other shit over there and go on benders that'll knock your socks off."

"What people do with Shimada Pharm products after purchase is outside of my control," Hanzo said evenly. "Now, the attack? What can you tell me?"

Ito grunted. "Looks like a motorcycle gang hit it. They were carrying pulse rifles - not cheap. This was a planned and coordinated hit."

"Did they take the contents of the van or did you impound it?"

"Stuff was gone when we got here," Ito said. "That's all I know about your cargo. They took a laser cutter to the side of it. They must have had another vehicle with them to load it up into, but we're still analyzing the tire tracks."

"And my driver, and his guard?" There were two people, at least, on every shipment - a driver in the front, and an armed security guard in the back of the van in case someone tried to get in and steal the product. 

"Sorry, kid. The driver's still hanging on by a thread, but-- ah, nope. They called it." He gestured towards the knot of EMTs, who had just straightened up after pulling a sheet over the head of the man they'd been trying to save. Ito allowed the death to roll off his back, apparently, and continued after scarcely missing a beat. "The guard took the laser cutter right to the face. I doubt his mother could identify him."

Hanzo grunted with irritation. "Any security cameras in the area?"

Ito shook his head. "I'm still looking for private cams, but this is an isolated spot and it looks like they hit in a space between where the coverage is."

Hanzo suppressed an annoyed groan. Of course, his father and the Shimada-gumi had vociferously resisted the installation of full coverage CCTV throughout the city, and by and large had succeeded in keeping large swaths of the city from being surveilled by the local government. Some cameras still existed, but shipments generally avoided the majority of these for obvious reasons. 

Still, there were serious implications in all of this. A coordinated hit, in the perfect isolated spot. It could only be an inside job.

Ito was watching him sidelong, his eyes narrowed with a shrewdness that Hanzo knew to lie underneath his jovial and outrageously unreserved manner. 

Hanzo bowed to Ito. "Thank you for the information. You will advise me if you learn anything else about my property?"

"I sure will," Ito said, returning the bow. "Can you tell me anything I might need to know to catch these goons?"

"I'm afraid I know nothing more than you've told me," Hanzo said.

"Right. Seems like this group has been pretty active," Ito said. "There have been a couple of other hits this month. None of them would be yours, I'm guessing?"

Hanzo didn't reply. They both knew that they were, and they also both knew that Hanzo would never admit it. 

After a few beats, Hanzo changed the subject. "Do you still smoke those cigarettes?" he asked. "I believe my bodyguard smokes the same brand."

Ito brightened. "That's what I recall, too. You're kind to remember."

"How could I forget?" Hanzo scanned the area one last time, and then turned away from the carnage and gestured to Sado, who stood nearby smoking. "Sado."

"Yes, boss," the bodyguard said, and walked up towards them. He pulled out his cigarette packet and handed it to Ito. 

Ito opened it and saw the tight roll of bills stuffed inside, then put the packet into his jacket pocket. Ito sighed. "You're not a bad one, Hanzo. It's a shame."

"I am, actually," Hanzo said absently. He was immediately assailed by the vision of his brother, covered in blood and disappearing from view as his corpse fell from the mountainside. He blinked firmly to dispel the image, and looked at Ito. "You and your wife should come for dinner sometime."

"Maybe we will," Ito said, though Hanzo could tell from his tone that he wasn't enthused by the idea. He couldn't blame him. Hanzo's father had been Ito's friend, but Hanzo was merely the awkward silent son who didn't get along with Ito's own child. "In the meantime, if I hear anything, I'll run an officer out to see you."

"Send a message and I will send someone to receive the information," Hanzo said. In no way was he allowing a police officer into Hanamura, let alone Shimada Castle. 

Ito huffed softly, but didn't contradict him. "Whatever you want."

Hanzo bowed to him one final time, and then walked towards his car, Sado falling in behind him. He could see a vague shape of Asahi sitting in the back seat through the windshield, mostly hidden by the driver's seat. He had his phone to his ear, probably getting some work done while he waited for his foolish Kumicho who had come all the way out here and learned virtually nothing.

Then he heard a roar of motorcycles.

He looked up and whirled around as three vehicles burst out from behind one of the large rusting ships. The drivers were masked, dressed in black, and carrying pulse rifles. 

"Boss, get down!" Sado exclaimed, and leaped in front of Hanzo, pulling his gun from the under arm holster he wore.

Hanzo flattened himself to the ground immediately and rolled under his car. He might have had time to get inside, but opening the door would only have endangered his Uncle. 

Besides, he wasn't afraid of some goons with jumped up laser rifles. He was a Shimada.

Once on the other side of the car, protected from the attack, he pressed his thumbs to the locks of his case. The locks scanned his fingerprint and genetic signature and sprang open, and he lifted the lid to reveal Stormbow. 

The bow's arms were folded inward to fit into the case, but as he pulled it out they sprang open to their full extension. The hardlight projector in the arms activated, forming a perfect bowstring out of pure energy.

As Hanzo rose to his feet, he slung the quiver over his back, and drew an arrow, nocked it, and let fly.

The first of the attackers took an arrow in the throat, just under the mask he wore. He fell instantly, his motorcycle going out of control and skidding across the pavement, kicking up sparks. The other two motorcycles swerved to the side, one going left and the other right, clearly trying to get away from Hanzo's fire. Pulse lasers arrowed towards Hanzo from two angles, and he leaped upwards, taking two steps over the hood of his car and firing a second arrow.

This one found its mark, but by then, he had new problems.

Another roar alerted him of a new threat behind him. Still in the middle of his leap, Hanzo whirled around just in time to see two more motorcycles leaping right off the roof of the building his car was parked next to. The bikes fell towards him, and Hanzo saw as if the whole thing were happening in slow motion that they would pass on either side of him. Almost in perfect sync, the masked attackers raised their rifles to bear on Hanzo.

Hanzo drew another arrow, and let fly. "Let the dragons consume you," he snarled, and blue light lit up the night sky as two dragons seemed to sweep out from his body, up and through the two men.

Hanzo landed lightly on his feet, whirled, and scanned the area as both battered motorcycles crashed on either side of him, dragging the corpses of the men away. The last of the cycles had apparently disappeared, its owner fleeing when he saw that he was outmatched.

Ito and the young police officer were racing towards him, two EMTs hot on their heels. "Hanzo, are you hurt?"

"I am uninjured. Where is my bodyguard. Sado?" Hanzo called.

They soon found him. Sado lay crumpled some short distance from the car, his body savaged by pulse rifle bolts. He had been trying to stop the last motorcycle from flanking Hanzo while the scion dealt with the new attack. The last attacker lay not far from Sado's body, also dead.

Hanzo regarded the body of his employee dispassionately for a few moments, then straightened and turned to Ito. "I trust there is no problem?"

Ito looked into his eyes and Hanzo wondered if he saw madness there, or cruelty. All he felt was exhaustion. "I saw only a man acting in self defence," Ito said. "I'll have to take the bodies into custody. All of them."

"Of course," Hanzo said. "You will release Sado's body to me once you've completed your paperwork, so that he can be properly honoured by the family."

Ito gripped Hanzo's shoulder and gave a nod, then turned away. Hanzo got into the driver's seat of his car.

"Hanzo," his Uncle said, his voice shaking. "Hanzo, are you all right?"

"I am well," he said, putting the vehicle into gear and turning the car around.

"Where are we going now?"

"Back to Shimada Castle," Hanzo said. "You will send someone to fetch the man in charge of this shipment. I will see him immediately."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for violence and non-con on the page in this chapter.

Once, the Shimada clan had been a proud family of ninja with a special ability that, combined with their martial prowess, made them some of the most feared warriors in Japan. They had served rulers ranging from local Daimyo to the Emperor himself, taking part in the various wars that ranged up and down the length of the archipelago. However, when Japan finally unified and the endless war between the regions of the country ended, the Shimada needed to find a new way to survive.

Organized crime had seemed a natural fit, at least to some.

And so, more than three hundred years ago, Hanzo's ancestor had fortified their ancestral home and the small fiefdom of Hanamura - granted to them by Oda Nobunaga in gratitude for their service - and settled down to the business of, well, business.

And he had built a throne room.

Hanzo had many memories of this room. It was beautiful and elegant, decorated in the traditional manner, with wall hangings and tatami floors. The throne was a simple lacquered wood chair, inlaid with gold. There was a glorious painted mural depicting the family crest - two twining dragons, blue and green - hanging behind it. 

Hanzo had spent many afternoons standing at his father's side, learning how a Shimada ruled his family and meted out justice.

In the time since Hanzo's father's death, he had had few occasions to use this room himself. But today he had sent the servants to ensure that the flowers were refreshed, and every surface was dusted. He took time to dress in a black yukata, and slung Stormbow over his shoulder, his quiver filled with a forest of arrows.

Then he took his place on his throne, and waited.

He had been specific when he ordered his uncle to send someone to fetch the man who had been in charge of the shipment, rather than sending word to the man to attend him. If the man was a traitor, he would only run when the message was received - if he hadn't run already.

And indeed, when Hanzo's enforcers had found the man, he had been carrying a suitcase and was on his way out of his house. His wife and children were already in another prefecture, ostensibly visiting family for the week.

The unfortunate man was no longer fighting when he entered the room. He was hunched and twitching like an abused animal, his hands twisting together with terror. He minced into the room, two large men flanking him to ensure he didn't run. He took one look at Hanzo, and fell on the floor, bowing until his forehead touched the tatami.

"Shimada-sama! Please, tell these men I have done nothing wrong."

Hanzo kept his expression stony, one hand resting on the lacquered arm of the chair and the other resting comfortably in his lap. He regretted the fact that Sado was gone - without a bodyguard at his shoulder, he knew there was a puzzle piece missing in the picture of the intimidating head of the family. Instead, he had to be content with his Uncle standing at his side - not nearly as imposing a figure. 

But apparently Hanzo was intimidating enough all on his own, based on the man's reaction.

"Fujii Riku," Hanzo said. "You are the supervisor for the plant that sent out a shipment of methylphenidate tonight, bound for Korea?"

"Yes, sir," Fujii squeaked. "Yes, that is me."

"You began as a drug seller, working street corners at fifteen, then you were welcomed into the family at the age of twenty, and shared sake with my father when you took the oaths." Hanzo had read his file. "After joining the family, you worked in the .plant as a packer, and eventually worked your way up to your current rank, one of the shateigashira of the Shimada-gumi."

He waited. Fujii eventually clued in that he was waiting for a response. "Yes?"

"What do you know about the attack on the shipment tonight?"

Fujii started. He looked up, his eyes wide, but the instant his eyes met Hanzo's stormy gaze, he instantly lowered them again, pressing his forehead more deeply to the tatami. "I-I know nothing about an attack." 

Hanzo's teeth ground audibly. "When were you first contacted by our enemies?"

"What?" Fujiii began to tremble. "I have not been contacted by anyone!"

"Then whom amongst your organization is the traitor?"

"I don't know!"

Hanzo leaned forward, both hands pressed to the arms of the chair as if he might leap from it and punish the man himself. "Our attackers could not have known the route without inside information. This is not the first attack. Either you are a part of it, or you know something. Tell me!"

"I don't! I don't know anything!" the man wailed.

"Then why did you send your wife and daughters out of the prefecture?" Hanzo thundered. "Why were you trying to flee?"

"My wife recently gave birth! They are visiting her mother for the week. I left work early to finish packing and so I could get out to visit them for the weekend." 

"A likely story," Hanzo snarled. 

The man began to weep. "I swear to you, I know nothing. I didn't even know the shipment had been attacked, Shimada-sama, please. I loved your father - he saved me from the streets. I have a good job, a good family, thanks to you."

Hanzo remained silent for a long moment, struggling. If the man was lying, he was a good faker, but if he was telling the truth then Hanzo was about to punish someone who was loyal to him. 

Asahi leaned close. "He is clearly lying, kumicho," he murmured. "What a coincidence that he sent his family to safety and was fleeing on the very night the shipment was attacked."

Hanzo gave a curt nod, watching the sniveling wreck at his feet. He couldn't be seen to waffle or be indecisive. Traitors to the Shimada-gumi probably already believed he was weak, or they wouldn't dare to cross him so overtly.

He needed to set an example, even if the thought of it turned his stomach.

"I'm afraid you will not be seeing your wife and daughters tonight," he said. The man wailed, and Hanzo sat back in his throne, fists clenched tightly. "Take him. Learn what he knows. No detail is too small."

The two enforcers seized the wailing Fujii and dragged him from the room. Asahi put a hand on Hanzo's shoulder. "You did well, Hanzo. He will talk. I will ensure it personally."

Hanzo's skin crawled. He got to his feet abruptly and turned on Asahi, breaking the physical contact between them. "See that you do," he said. "But I am not convinced he has anything to do with this. Do not damage him permanently without my express authorization. He has been a good and loyal man to us for two decades."

"The most poisonous snake is the one you don't see before it bites you," Asahi said.

"I'm well aware," Hanzo gritted. He turned away. "I'm going out."

Asahi started. "You-- Now? You're leaving now? It's after midnight."

Hanzo ignored him, and headed for his car. Several servants retreated into rooms when they saw him, swiftly avoiding allowing his gaze to fall upon them. Only when he reached his car did he remember that Sado was dead, and he hadn't yet named a replacement. He had no one to drive him.

Any number of people from the house could have done it, but they were all frightened of him. 

He got into the car and drove himself. The GPS already knew how to find Tanaka's club. That should have been more disturbing than it was, but in his current mood Hanzo was just grateful to Sado for having the foresight to program it in before the man took a bullet for him.

It wasn't until he reached the club that Hanzo realized he was openly carrying a weapon. He sat in the seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel, and rested his forehead between his hands. The cool leather of the wheel did nothing to cool the disturbance of his heart. 

Sado was dead. Hanzo couldn't even remember his first name. He didn't know if he had a family, or children, or interests of his own. Hanzo had just ordered the torture of a man who might possibly be innocent in his death. Everyone in Hanzo's life either hated him or feared him or both.

Except one person.

Hanzo got out of the car and walked inside, still carrying Stormbow slung across his back, because he couldn't leave it in the car unattended.

Tanaka saw him first. He came scurrying up, and his eyes widened at the sight of the openly-carried weapon, but he quickly swallowed his reaction. "A-ah... kumicho. What a delight to see you here, again. I must regretfully inform you--"

"I want him."

Tanaka's eyes darted around. "I'm sorry, Shimada-sama. As I was about to say - I'm afraid your favoured cowboy is occupied at the moment. I believe he'll be finished in about twenty to thirty minutes. I can bring you a drink, on the house, if you wish to wait--"

Hanzo gritted his teeth. His stomach was roiling and his ears were beginning to ring. His heart was pounding. He couldn't just wait - how outrageous! He was the kumicho.

"What room is he in?"

Tanaka's eyes widened. "Kumicho, you can't--"

Hanzo grabbed his cousin by the collar, twisting the fabric until it tightened around his neck. "Show me. Now."

There was a moment of standoff, and then Tanaka nodded meekly. Hanzo let him go, and followed.

But Tanaka didn't stop talking. "Kumicho, I beg you, do not do this. I have a business to run. I cannot simply prefer one customer over others, it wouldn't be good for business."

Hanzo could scarcely hear him. His heart wouldn't slow and his hands were threatening to begin shaking. He just needed some time, some time with someone who would understand, who he could talk to, and who would hold him and kiss him and tell him things would be okay. Whoever the customer was was unimportant - Hanzo would pay for his inconvenience, he would make it right. It wouldn't be a problem.

When they reached the door, Tanaka turned, hands up to plead with him, but Hanzo seized the door and slid it open without paying any attention to his cousin.

This room was far less lavish than the one Hanzo was used to, just a box of a room with a bed. James was on the bed, facing away from Hanzo, his body in full view from the door. He was fully dressed in his cowboy getup, on his knees, back bent, wrists lashed to the headboard while a large man Hanzo didn't recognize immediately pounded into his ass. Even as Hanzo opened the door, the man brought a riding crop down hard across James' bare back. James cried out at the strike, and then begged for more in a harsh, broken voice.

James' back and ass were striped with marks.

Hanzo saw red. He didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

"Get off of him," he snarled, striding into the room.

The man only now noticed that he was being observed. He turned, his hips still pumping, his eyes wide, and Hanzo recognized his face. He had seen him pawing James only a few days ago, just before Hanzo had purchased James' services the first time. 

What was his name again? Yamahito? Yamaguchi? Sukiyama? 

He didn't seem to recognize Hanzo. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

"James!" Hanzo called out, and the prostitute craned his neck around. James' eyes widened, and Hanzo saw sweat on his face, mixed with tears of pain, his eyes filled with fear and agony. 

Hanzo pulled an arrow from his quiver and grabbed the shoulder of the man who was raping and torturing James. The man yelled and tried to throw him off, but Hanzo was quicker and far better trained.

He slit his throat, and dragged him away from James, throwing him down onto the floor as blood spattered the bed, Hanzo's clothing, and James' bare and abused ass.

Tanaka screamed, covering his mouth with both hands.

Hanzo walked up to the head of the bed and cut through James' bonds with the bloody arrow. "Hanzo?" James whispered. "What--"

"Shh," Hanzo said in English. "Be quiet. Follow my lead, and be obedient."

He slid the arrow back into the quiver and grabbed James' arm, helping him up off the bed. James winced as he stood, his shoulders hunched against the pain. He wasn't in the least bit erect from the activities he'd been engaged in, his cock hanging low and exposed though he wore his chaps and belt. Hanzo glanced around and located his thong, bent to scoop it up, and shoved it into James' hands.

The younger man covered himself while Hanzo stood in front of him, shielding him from Tanaka's view. Tanaka stood in the doorway, shaking visibly, his hand still covering his mouth.

"I trust you can dispose of that quietly," Hanzo said, gesturing to the body on the floor. The name came to him now - Yamaguchi. It was not an uncommon name, and Hanzo was sure he knew nothing about him. Not a prominent family, then.

Tanaka swallowed, and nodded. "Do you... what are you intending to do now, Kumicho?" he asked meekly.

Hanzo squared his shoulders. "I am taking him," he said, raising his chin with defiance. "Name a fair price."

Tanaka's mouth worked for a long moment. "You mean... permanently?"

"Permanently."

"Five hundred thousand yen."

"You can have two hundred," Hanzo said. "Where are his things?"

"He...he had a few clothes, nothing much--"

Hanzo looked at James and switched to English again. "What did you have with you when you were captured?"

Before James could reply, Tanaka spoke up hastily. "I've just recalled! There was a weapon and some personal effects. I will fetch them"

"Good. Go."

Tanaka fled. Hanzo stood stock still, hands at his sides. James remained silent, standing behind him, as a body cooled two feet from them.

It was Hanzo who broke the silence first. "How badly are you injured?"

"I'm...just fine, darlin'," James said slowly, his voice very quiet. "Just fine."

Hanzo closed his eyes for a moment, struggling for control, but his poise had fled hours ago. "Do not fear me," he pleaded.

James didn't reply. 

Tanaka returned, carrying a small satchel. He thrust it towards Hanzo, his eyes wide with sycophantic eagerness. "I do apologize for the inconvenience, Shimada-sama. There's no need to take him with you. You and I can discuss appropriate terms, to ensure he's kept in a state of readiness for you."

"Get out of my face," Hanzo growled, taking the satchel and pushing past his cousin. "Come, James." The last was still in Japanese, but James apparently did understand enough, because the younger man followed obediently without hesitation. 

Hanzo walked through the bar and out the back door without seeing anyone through the blur in his vision. He reached his car and pointed to the back seat. "In." He sat down in the driver's seat and set the satchel on the seat next to him. On automatic, he started the car and drove.

James was silent for a full ten minutes before he spoke. "You know, a lotta what you and your cousin said back there flew over my head, but, did you just... buy me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Hanzo struggled for a few moments. "That man was hurting you."

James frowned. "Darlin', that ain't the first time."

Hanzo's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Would you rather I'd left you there? Do you feel I've done something wrong by this?"

He saw in the rear view mirror that James removed his hat and ran a hand through his brown hair. "Babe, don't get me wrong, I see you have good intentions towards me, but there's a lot that was fucked up about all of this."

"Because I murdered a man tonight," Hanzo said, filling in the specifics left unsaid. 

James snorted. "Well, that's a _start_ , yeah."

"It was... an overreaction," Hanzo admitted. "I was overwrought before I came there, and seeing you there like that pushed me over the edge. But you can rest easy now - no one will touch you that you don't wish to. You'll be safe, from now on. So we can put this unpleasantness behind us."

"What about all the other people at that place? Are they gonna be 'safe', now, too? Or am I the only special one?" James asked.

Hanzo felt his breath stop in his throat. He had no answer for that. It hadn't even occurred to him. He had only been focused on James' welfare.

They were passing out of the city proper and into the quieter, greener streets of Hanamura. Ahead, the castle rose above, a picturesque fortress set high on a cliff. The way up to it was lit with lanterns, and the castle itself glowed in the moonlight. Beautiful and dangerous.

"Look there," Hanzo said. "We are nearly home. I... I will get you settled, and then we can discuss these other matters, if they still weigh upon you."

"Great," James said, plopping his hat back onto his head and tugging the brim down. "I can't wait."


	9. Chapter 9

_Three weeks ago...._

"Thank ya kindly," Jesse said, giving the brim of his hat a tug and turning away, his key card clutched in his hand. The two women behind the desk twittered behind their hands as he walked away, and he smiled faintly to himself. Like he'd told Commander Reyes, there was no way he was going to be able to get anywhere in this place without being noticed. So he'd chosen to just embrace it.

He was posing as a tourist, under an assumed name - Harvey Daniels, from Texas. He had a fake passport, fake ID, a wallet full of yen, and a suitcase full of brand new clothes. That suitcase also had a secret compartment in it, which contained a variety of other very useful items more suited to a spy than a tourist, including a sophisticated handheld computer system with a stripped-down copy of Athena and capable of sending messages back to HQ that stood some chance of not being detected.

The hotel room was pretty nice, larger than he'd expected from Japan. But then, this wasn't a densely-populated city in the grand scheme of things - not like Tokyo or Kyoto where from what he'd heard you were lucky to get a coffin-sized space to lay your head at night. 

He even had a window with a five-star view. To the left was Mount Fuji, just as impressive and beautiful as he could have imagined, wearing a skirt of white puffy clouds that were lit up pretty and pink by the setting sun. When he looked to the right he had an equally exquisite view of a castle, sitting high on a hill. 

Jesse stared at it for a few moments, feeling a pulse of disgust in his stomach. That had to be Shimada Castle. Pretty as a copperhead snake, and just as deadly.

He hung a 'do not disturb' sign on the door and sat down at the desk, opening up his suitcase. He pressed his thumb to a hidden button deep underneath his clothes and felt the compartment spring open as his finger print was scanned. Reaching inside, he pulled out his peacemaker, a box of bullets, and the small computer. Peacemaker and the bullets were set aside on the desk, and the computer placed in front of him.

He activated the screen. 

"Good evening, Jesse McCree." Athena's familiar tones were reassuring, after so much time spent flicking through translation apps at tourist information stations and trying to make himself understood. 

"Evenin' Athena. You can let the Commander know that I've landed and checked in."

"Is there anything else that you wish him to know at this time?"

Jesse thought for a moment. It was best not to send too many signals, since there was a chance that electronic chatter was being monitored either by Talon or the Shimada, so he wasn't supposed to call in willy-nilly. The room was paid up for a month, which should be more than enough time for him to investigate Talon's holdings and wrap things up. He planned to go out tomorrow during the day and do some touristy stuff, establish his cover, like Gabriel had instructed him, and until he'd done that, there wouldn't be anything to report anyway.

"Just tell him I'll be restin' tonight, and tomorrow I'll be goin' out to check the place out. I'll be goin' dark from here and will check in when I have somethin' solid."

"Acknowledged." There was a short pause, and then, "Encrypted message package sent."

Jesse leaned back in his chair and lit up a cigar, then dragged the peacemaker towards him. He pulled his cleaning kit out of the hidden compartment and took the gun apart, examining each piece and cleaning it carefully, then finally reassembling the weapon and reloading it. He didn't feel tired, though the flight out here on a commercial airline and the jetlag should have been hitting him fierce. He suspected he was just excited to be out and about on his own, doing something worthwhile and dangerous.

His cover required him to spend some time on frivolous stuff, but he'd never really been a tourist before. Never had the money, nor the time. What would a rich guy like him do for fun?

Not spend all night hanging out in his hotel room.

But if he was going to go out, it would be best if he accomplished _something_ with his time. Thing was, none of the information Blackwatch currently had about Talon's investments in the area suggested that he would learn anything at a club or bar unless he just happened to hit up a Talon agent - a one in a million chance without any intel to point him in the right direction. 

He glanced out the window again, up at the castle. The sun had gone down behind the mountain, and they were lighting the lanterns around the castle grounds. Little lights came on, one by one, glowing like jewels as the sky turned to a deep blue black. It was a beautiful structure, but he knew it was full of criminals - criminals who probably sold drugs, pimped out prostitutes, and stole and murdered. The kind of people who were most active at night.

Maybe he could do a little extracurricular activity while he was here. Kill two birds with one stone, if he was lucky.

"Hey Athena, show me the night clubs that might be owned by the Shimada clan in this town."

A map appeared on the screen and was soon populated by a small forest of little dots. Jesse nearly lost control of his cigar as his jaw dropped at the sight of them. Of course, he realized, the whole town was practically owned by the Shimada. So nearly every strip club and pachinko parlour and whatever else was owned by them. 

He spent the next several minutes clicking on links, reading up about the places, before he finally narrowed it down to a couple in the area that he intended to check out. In particular, he liked a brothel owned by a cousin of the Shimadas, Tanaka Houji. If there was anyone he'd mark as a pervert - and probably engaged in sex trafficking - it was that guy. Maybe he'd just pay him a little visit.

Jesse got to his feet and tucked the peacemaker into the holster tucked into the small of his back, where the bulge wouldn't be noticeable to a casual look. He took his wallet and passport out of his pocket and laid it on the desk along with his phone and anything else he could think of that might be used to identify him. He didn't plan on going in the front door, or needing any money to get in. No, this was a Blackwatch op - he'd be going in the back, breaking in, and hopefully get something to hand over to Interpol.

The news of the arrest of a few members of the Shimada clan would be a good present to give Genji when he got home. Maybe he'd even crack a smile - not that you could tell.

"Athena, I'm goin' out. Talk to you later."

"Enjoy your evening, McCree," Athena said.

"I'm sure I will."

~ ~ ~

_Today..._

Jesse had by now decided that Hanzo was either an absolute fucking mastermind - and had had Jesse's number since the very beginning - or he was a complete fucking disaster of a human being.

And he was definitely leaning towards the latter. 

His actions tonight just made no sense for a man who ran a massive and complex criminal organization. The guy had barged into the room and slit a man's throat, as if he was a goddamn hero coming to the rescue.

Not that Jesse and his aching ass weren't grateful, at least in the short term. However, Jesse had to assume that he was being pulled from the frying pan into the fire, despite how sweet on him Hanzo might be. 

The only other possibility was that this entire scenario was a charade to get Jesse to drop his guard. Hanzo could have possibly discovered that Jesse was an Overwatch agent, and wanted to bring Jesse in - disappear him, so Overwatch could never find him. Thing was, Hanzo didn't have to kill a guy to do that, or pay what had sounded like a large sum of money for him. He should have been able to just order Jesse brought in.

Which brought Jesse back around to deciding that yes, Hanzo was a complete disaster, and something had gone very, very wrong tonight.

Jesse had pumped Hanzo for information before, but he didn't want to do it while the guy was driving. That was pillow talk work. So he watched the scenery and waited, hoping that he was right and Hanzo really had just pulled a hero move. If that was the case, there'd be time for questions once they got where they were going.

The castle loomed above them, lit up like a confection, as they passed through a massive guarded gate and onto the grounds themselves. The place was even more beautiful up close, Jesse had to admit, but he immediately saw that it was practically impenetrable. Cliffs on either side, a huge gate with guards, and in only a few seconds Jesse spotted other guards - with dogs, as well as electronic sweepers - monitoring the grounds.

It was a fortress, and Jesse was inside. This was fantastic, if he wanted intel. But if he wanted to escape? Not so much.

Hanzo drove into a covered parking garage, cunningly concealed behind beautiful carved wooden doors. He parked the car and grabbed the bag containing Jesse's peacemaker.

Jesse looked hungrily at the bag containing his gun, and forced himself to look away. He was no more going to be able to carry that weapon here than he had been back at the club. At least Hanzo had saved it, but that didn't mean Jesse was getting a hold of it. He was just as much of a sex slave and a prisoner right now as he'd been half an hour ago, except for only one patron.

He slid out of the car and glanced at Hanzo. The man looked pale, as if he hadn't slept, and distracted. He jerked his head curtly in a clear command, and Jesse followed him, doing his best to memorize the route in case he had an opportunity to get back here.

Unfortunately, the castle was a maze of identical-looking doors and hallways. Jesse got turned around within minutes. He struggled to memorize landmarks, such as when they passed what looked like a rock garden, but then they passed another garden, and Jesse wasn't sure that it wasn't the same one. Finally, Hanzo opened one door, apparently at random, and went through it.

"This is my suite," Hanzo said. "You may stay here, for now."

 _For now?_ Jesse bit off the cynicism before he could voice it. He'd already said enough, taking Hanzo to task for saving him but leaving who-knew-how-many other people in bondage. He would probably benefit more from showing off some gratitude - that'd be more what Hanzo would likely expect.

So he glanced around with appreciation. The room was bigger than any home Jesse had ever lived in, and that was just _this_ room. Jesse could see other rooms branching off, and he knew he'd have to spend some time exploring. Maybe he'd find a way to escape.

In fact, he was beginning to formulate a plan. Slowly, it dawned on him that this was an unprecedented opportunity. He was actually inside the Shimada headquarters, right in deep and next to the leader of one of the most powerful organized crime families in the world. This was an opportunity Blackwatch would literally kill for, and it had landed right in Jesse's lap.

He would wait, and listen, and watch, and figure out a way to escape. 

And when the time was right, and he'd learned as much as he could, he would assassinate Hanzo Shimada.

He turned back to Hanzo. The Japanese man was gazing at him with an inscrutable expression, his dark eyes watchful and penetrating. Jesse beamed. "Nice digs you've got here, babe. You mind if I take a shower? I'm not feelin' at my best."

Hanzo blinked, and seemed to relax a fraction. "Of course, of course you must feel-- Come this way. The bathing room is through here." Hanzo led Jesse through another doorway, and into another inordinately large room, with a gigantic bathing tub in the centre. Hanzo touched the controls and the bath began to fill with clean, steaming, fragrant water.

Jesse pulled off his clothes, not really bothering to make a show of it - at least, not the way he had the first time. He also didn't try to conceal his body from the other man in any way. He peeled off the belt and chaps and discarded them, then dropped the thong on top of it. His hat he set on top of the whole kit and kaboodle, and all the while he felt Hanzo's eyes on him like a laser beam.

It was gratifying to be wanted so damn much, at least by a guy whose presence he could stand. It made him feel disloyal to Genji to admit it, but as fucked up as Hanzo was, at least he was weirdly pleasant to be around. 

The difference felt particularly stark tonight. Every time Jesse moved, the welts on his back and ass flared up with a low, pulsing agony. His hole was raw, too. The asshole hadn't bothered to prep him much before going to town, after ordering him to beg for more. Jesse certainly couldn't be sorry he was dead, and only wished Hanzo's little murder rampage had included a few more special jerks Jesse had met over the last couple of weeks.

Whatever he could say about Hanzo, the guy had been downright tender and sweet.

He tried to ignore the pain as he bent to test the water, finding it a little hotter than he preferred. The welts were going to sting, but the urgency of scrubbing off was also a thing, and he suspected Hanzo wanted him cleaned off after what he'd witnessed. The tub was a nice gesture, at least - Jesse hadn't had a hot bath for a long time. Blackwatch HQ preferred showers, and he'd had nothing but a shower head that sprayed ice cold water at the brothel.

So Jesse stepped into the tub and settled down into it, hissing between his teeth despite his best efforts, when the hot water touched the injuries.

Hanzo gave a soft hiss as Jesse got into the tub, but said nothing and watched the whole thing, standing back with arms folded and a glower on his face. 

Jesse cast him a grin. "What, you ain't gonna join me, darlin'?"

Hanzo started, as if he'd been lost in thought. "Do you wish me to? I was considering whether to get the doctor."

Jesse blinked. "I ain't that badly hurt, babe."

Hanzo hesitated, then glanced aside, looking at Jesse's clothes with a thoughtful expression. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, and abruptly shook his head. "Take your time. I will wait for you. Also, next time you should clean off before getting into the tub." And with that, he picked up Jesse's clothes, turned and left the room.

Clean off _before_? That didn't make a lick of sense. Jesse shrugged and felt around for the soap, but there wasn't any nearby. He finally spotted a cake on the other side of the room, next to a little set-up with a shower head and a stool. Maybe that was what Hanzo meant. He frowned and then just gave that up, and rubbed his skin raw with a washcloth instead. That would just have to do.

When the hot water had stopped stinging so much and the aches in his body had dulled, Jesse found himself relaxing enough that he almost nodded off in the tub. He roused himself and got up, draining the tub and grabbing a towel. He had nothing to wear, so he dried himself off, hung up the towel, and walked out of the bathroom in the buff. 

"Come this way, James," Hanzo called. It took Jesse a few moments to figure out where it was coming from in the maze of rooms, but eventually he located the bedroom. It was a weird sort of bedroom for a rich guy, only a mattress on the floor, albeit a big mattress. But the rest of the furniture in the room was as ornate as the rest of it, all rich lacquered woods, gold inlay, and some kind of shells making the shapes of dragons and fish and stuff. 

Practically an entire wall was open to the outside, and Jesse's eyes were inexorably drawn to that possible escape route - only to realize that there was just a balcony that way, and a thousand foot drop beyond. No escape would happen in that direction.

Hanzo was kneeling next to the mattress. The bow and arrows were gone - or at least, that's what Jesse thought initially, until he saw that both had been hung on a rack obviously meant for that purpose. Hanzo had a pot in his hand and was mixing up something pungent with a chopstick. "Lie down," Hanzo instructed. "On your front."

Jesse cocked his head and shrugged, then obeyed. He rested his cheek on his crossed arms, head turned to look at Hanzo. "What's that, lube?"

Hanzo blushed. "Certainly not," he said stiffly. "It's a salve for the welts."

"You don't have a biotic field generator?" Jesse asked unthinkingly, then cursed himself. It wasn't unlikely that Hanzo _had_ access to something like that, but it wasn't exactly common on the civilian market. Jesse had never even seen one until he joined Overwatch.

Hanzo didn't answer for a moment. He spread the salve onto Jesse's back and it immediately began to tingle, the lingering pain easing immediately. Jesse groaned. "I do have access to one, but you seemed like you preferred not to see a doctor," Hanzo said. "If the injuries were worse, I would bring you there, regardless of your preference, but I thought this would suffice."

"It suffices," Jesse moaned. He had thought he was handling the pain just fine, but the difference now that the pain was really going away had left him boneless - especially after the hot bath.

Hanzo huffed softly, with a satisfied air.

Soon Jesse's whole back and ass was tingling pleasantly, and Hanzo set the salve aside. Jesse felt Hanzo's hand come to rest on his shoulder and knead at the muscle there. "Do you feel better?"

"Mmhmm," Jesse murmured. Somewhere along the line, his eyes had closed.

Hanzo rose and extinguished the lights. Jesse was vaguely aware of him moving around the room, shedding his clothing and then returning. A heavy blanket was pulled over him as Hanzo got onto the bed. Jesse struggled to move, to turn over so he could cuddle Hanzo the way he knew the other man liked, but Hanzo pressed his hand more firmly down on Jesse's shoulder again.

"Do not move. The salve needs time to soak in."

"I can't just lay here," Jesse protested. "I'm workin'." His brain was foggy. Had Hanzo drugged him?

"I am content," Hanzo said. His hand was back, rubbing gently, combing up into Jesse's damp hair. "Rest, now, James."

Jesse frowned, confused. That wasn't his name. Then he chuckled. "Jesse James... right, that was clever."

Hanzo's hand froze. "What's that?"

"S'a good name," Jesse said softly. "Because I'm a cowboy." He frowned again. "I didn't drink nothin'. What did you do?"

"There's a mild narcotic in the salve," Hanzo said. "Sleep now."

Jesse slept.


	10. Chapter 10

Hanzo lay beside James, his arm cinched around James' waist, and watched as the cowboy's breathing evened out and he began to snore softly. It was now so late that it might be more appropriately called 'early', yet Hanzo still felt no desire to sleep. His mind was buzzing, a kaleidoscope of emotions assailing him from every angle. 

Tonight, Hanzo had done something incredibly foolish. He had murdered a man without considering the ramifications, in a fit of pique and rage. The murder didn't haunt him like another one he had committed, but he knew it was a significant action, and one that could well have serious consequences down the line. He didn't think the man was anyone with influence in Hanamura, and he had no reason to believe anyone might be interested in his death, but he didn't know that for certain. More than that, he had brought James into his home, and he had no idea what consequences would flow from that, either.

But he was committed. He would simply have to deal with whatever happened as it came.

Now, however, another revelation had come, and that was what was truly keeping Hanzo awake.

Once he was sure James was sleeping, Hanzo slid silently off of the futon and padded out of the room. He paused to put on a silk robe, aware that servants would be out and about in a few hours. Even in his own rooms, it was best not to wander around naked if he didn't want to be seen that way.

He moved to his office and sat down at his computer, bringing up a simple internet search window.

First, he typed "James Maverick", and scanned the results. While there were several, at least one of them definitely a porn actor, he saw no one whose profile seemed to fit. Of the photographs he found, none bore any resemblance to the man currently sleeping in his bedroom. Of the others, details didn't match - such as age, country of residence, or in one case, gender.

Next, he typed "Jesse James". These results made more sense to him, though they brought him no closer to understanding the true identity of the young man. Clearly, he was not an American outlaw who'd been dead for centuries, though the search results explained why 'James' had mentioned cowboys in connection to the name and found it 'clever'.

Was his true name Jesse? But there had to be many Jesses in the world, so that still didn't help Hanzo to learn his identity by itself. Even if Jesse had told the truth about his state of origin - Colorado - there would be thousands of social media profiles to look through in the hopes of finding him. And Hanzo had to bet that if there was one place in the world Jesse was _not_ from, it was Colorado - simply because that was where he claimed to have come from.

Stymied for the moment, Hanzo rose from the chair and paced around the room for a while before he was struck with an idea. He searched in his desk drawers until he found a small digital camera, then stole back into the bedroom. Moving carefully, and glad that the narcotic in the salve would keep Jesse asleep, Hanzo gently pulled Jesse's arm out from under the covers and took a photograph of his tattoo. He then returned to the office and uploaded the picture, then ran an image matching search, associated with the name 'Jesse'.

And he got a hit.

"The Deadlock Gang," Hanzo murmured, staring at an old bounty listing - listed as completed, but unpaid - in the amount of sixty million dollars. "Jesse McCree."

The picture associated with the bounty was the spitting image of the young man in his bed. 

Hanzo continued to read, absorbing every detail. Jesse McCree was from New Mexico - not Colorado, just as Hanzo had already anticipated. He had been a part of the notorious gang, which had been broken a year ago, the members of the gang all either killed or arrested. 

Delving into law enforcement and court record websites, Hanzo learned that Jesse had been arrested - which explained why the bounty had never been paid out - and convicted of several murders and other serious crimes, but from there the chain of information ended. Hanzo could see that Jesse had been incarcerated, but there was no record of him getting out. If he had escaped from prison, there would certainly be news articles and records of that. From what he could find in his searches, if Hanzo hadn't known any differently, he would be certain that Jesse was still safely in a supermax prison in New Mexico.

So what was he doing in Japan? Was he really a fugitive, as Tanaka had first assumed? If so, why wasn't law enforcement looking for him with vigor?

Hanzo sat back, rubbing his lips with his fingertips, thinking. Then he remembered the gun. He got up and found the sack he had liberated from Tanaka, and opened it up. Inside the sack, wrapped in a button-down shirt and a pair of worn jeans, was a revolver in a holster. 

Hanzo picked up the gun and examined it, immediately impressed. It had a powerful laser sight, and signs of use in battle. The gun was scarred, but well taken care of, clearly a weapon which commanded respect both from its owner and his enemies. It also seemed to Hanzo that it was a custom weapon, based on the spur attached to the grip, which had to be a mod.

This was not a weapon that a poor, penniless, and friendless fugitive would carry. 

Hanzo placed the weapon into his desk drawer and locked the drawer, then called for a servant. He gave Jesse's clothes to the servant and requested it be laundered, and asked that fresh new clothes be provided for a guest. 

Then he returned to his bedroom and gazed down at Jesse McCree. Now that he knew who Jesse was, he had a lot more questions. To his own surprise, he wasn't angry that Jesse had lied to him about his identity, but he couldn't allow it to stand. He needed to know who this man was, if he was going to share his bed with him.

Hanzo turned away and opened the door to his own private garden. The sun was beginning to rise in the east, and Hanzo knelt on the grass, closing his eyes and trying without success to calm his mind for meditation.

~ ~ ~

Jesse woke slowly, feeling warm and comfortable, the scent of cherry blossoms in his nose. He sat up and looked around, pushing hair out of his face, and ran his palm over the day's growth of stubble on his chin. He expected the abuse done to his body to wake up and start screaming, but he felt mainly just the deep ache inside. The welts on his back and ass almost didn't hurt at all.

He got to his feet, allowing the heavy blanket to fall away, and his skin prickled with gooseflesh. A cross-breeze swept through the room, between the door that was open to the balcony and another open door leading off of the bedroom. Last night, he had thought that was a wall.

He peeked through and realized that this door led outside, too - to a garden set on the cliffside. There was soft grass and more rocks and sand. The garden was very long and narrow, and down at the far end Jesse saw archery targets set up.

Hanzo was kneeling on the grass, facing away from him. He looked like he was meditating - Jesse had seen Genji take that same pose before.

Jesse paused, unsure if he should interrupt, but Hanzo spoke.

"Good morning, James." He opened his eyes and turned, spearing Jesse with a look over his shoulder. "Or should I say, Jesse McCree?"

Jesse froze. "What's that?"

Hanzo rose smoothly to his feet. "Come." Head held high and his posture stiff, Hanzo walked past Jesse and into the room again. Jesse followed reluctantly, wondering if this was when things were going to get ugly, but Hanzo shed the robe he was wearing and sat down on the futon, gesturing to Jesse to join him.

"You shouldn't wander in the nude, unless you wish to shock my servants," Hanzo said. "But there's time for us to lie abed for a while before breakfast."

His expression was still completely impenetrable, and Jesse was getting more and more nervous looking at that face he couldn't read. Still, he saw no option - he had to do as he was told for now, or try to throw Hanzo off the cliff and see what happened after that. So Jesse sat down on the futon, trying not to look guilty as fuck and failing miserably.

"Lie down," Hanzo ordered, and Jesse obeyed, watching Hanzo with the wariness of a dog expecting to be kicked at any moment. But all Hanzo did was lie down next to him and wrap his tattooed arm around Jesse's waist, pillowing his head on Jesse's shoulder.

Jesse wrapped his arm around Hanzo's shoulders. "How long have you known?" he asked hollowly.

"About two hours," Hanzo said. "When you were out of it, you mentioned the name 'Jesse'. That and your tattoo allowed me to put it together."

Jesse thought about that for a few moments. The tattoo? So Hanzo had probably figured out that he was in Deadlock - did that mean he didn't know Jesse was in Overwatch? Slowly and cautiously, his hopes rose. Maybe he wasn't totally screwed after all, but he couldn't assume that. For all he knew, there was some record Gabriel had missed, some way that a guy with the resources Hanzo had to figure out why Jesse wasn't in supermax.

"Now what?" Jesse asked softly.

Hanzo drew a breath and huffed it out, almost a laugh. "You ask me that while I am still unsure myself. I have many questions for you, but I doubt you will answer me truthfully."

Jesse winced. "What happens if you don't believe my answers?"

Hanzo was silent. "I cannot simply allow that," he said. "The last man who went before me - only yesterday night - whose excuses I didn't believe, I ordered tortured. I don't wish to do that to you, but I cannot sleep in the same bed as a man who is a potential threat - one I don't trust."

An uncomfortable silence fell over them both.

"Guess I'd better be real convincing, then," Jesse said in a jokingly cheerful tone. He couldn't maintain the smile, though, and lapsed into silence once more. To his surprise, Hanzo didn't break the quiet immediately, or start to interrogate him. After a few minutes, Jesse finally spoke up tentatively. "Who's the guy you sent to be tortured?"

"An underboss of mine," Hanzo said. Jesse hadn't been sure he'd answer, but he did so without hesitation, making Jesse wonder if he had hoped Jesse would ask. "It's possible he may have betrayed me, causing the death of my bodyguard and nearly my death as well."

Jesse started in surprise. "Wait, when did this happen?"

"Yesterday."

Jesse shifted onto his side, meeting Hanzo's eyes and searching his expression. "You tellin' me you nearly died yesterday?"

Hanzo looked startled by Jesse's interest. He nodded.

"Well, no wonder you were so upset yesterday," Jesse said. 

"I was upset by what was happening to you, as well," Hanzo protested, but his eyes slid away immediately. "But yes, it was a hard day. I will have to arrange a funeral, and I am not sure that the man who is being blamed for the situation is truly guilty. I am uncertain of how to deal with the entire situation, which seems only to be getting worse. All I wanted was a pleasant evening away from it all, and when I found you... like that, I overreacted."

"I'll say," Jesse said wryly. "Not that I ain't grateful to you for gettin' me outta that situation, mind. But you didn't have to kill that guy."

"Killing him was a mistake," Hanzo said with a sigh. "I acted on impulse. I don't even know who he was. Hopefully he was no one of consequence."

Once again, Jesse was struck by the odd dichotomy in Hanzo. His intentions towards Jesse did seem pure. He was almost naive when it came to Jesse, genuinely wanting to be kind to him, and believing that he _was_ being kind. Yet he was the head of a criminal organization, had murdered a man in cold blood and clearly felt no guilt for that - and of course, there was Genji.

"Why would one of your own guys try to kill you?" Jesse asked. "I thought yakuza were plenty loyal."

Hanzo grimaced. "I'm still not certain what motivated the attempt on my life. Some of my shipments are being attacked by unknown agents, and stolen. It has happened several times, and it seems clear that there are those within the Shimada-gumi who are feeding information to our enemies. What I don't know is who those enemies are, nor who the traitors are. The man I caught yesterday may be only one of many, but he also may not be one of them at all."

Jesse chewed on that for a few moments. The Shimada were getting attacked - could that be Talon? Suddenly the whole thing was a lot more interesting, and Jesse found his heart beginning to race with excitement rather than fear. He knew Talon was moving in on Hanzo's territory here, but what if it wasn't with Hanzo's cooperation? What if they were trying to take over the Shimada's territory by force?

"Jesse," Hanzo said softly, breaking into Jesse's thoughts. "Tell me about the gang that you joined."

It was delivered gently, yet the question felt like a slap to the face. The interrogation had begun. Jesse grunted and settled onto his back again as a pretext for not looking Hanzo in the face, struggling to figure out how to encompass such a huge question into a few sentences, and not wind up spilling all the beans as well.

"I told you a bit, already," Jesse said.

"You said that your mother was ill, that you joined to make money," Hanzo said. 

"Yeah, I... I did little stuff at first," Jesse said. "That's how they getcha. For a while, I did errands for the boss. Things got bad for a while when I got older. Learned a few different ways to make more money, but it wasn't what I wanted to spend my time doing."

"Sex work," Hanzo translated ruthlessly, though his tone was still soft, and Jesse twitched. 

"Yeah," Jesse admitted. "Those were bad years. I was workin' day and night. I didn't let them hook me on drugs, but that's about the only silver linin'. My mom died, and they didn't even let me find out about it for two months. But one of the guys who liked me best, he let me learn to shoot. I turned out to have a good eye. A real good eye. I shot him, and instead of killin' me, they promoted me and let me join the gang proper. I became an enforcer and eventually a bodyguard to one of the big wigs. Got real notorious, did a lot of bad stuff."

"I read that the Deadlock gang was arrested," Hanzo said. "You were convicted of many crimes, and there was a bounty placed on your head before your arrest."

Jesse nodded. His heart was beginning to speed up. Hanzo didn't seem like he knew about Overwatch, but he was sniffing around the time when he was recruited, and Jesse didn't have a good lie prepared. What would happen if he admitted to being a member of Overwatch? Would Hanzo send him back, or kill him to keep his secrets, or would he just keep him prisoner and defy even them? Jesse had no idea what Hanzo might do.

He also wasn't entirely certain what he _wanted_ Hanzo to do - no, he did know. Jesse wanted to stay here, at least for now. From here he could complete his mission in an entirely different way than he had originally intended, and probably take down the Shimada clan as well. 

And with that realization, he knew what he had to do. If he was wrong, he was about to make a really huge mistake, but Jesse had taken big risks before.

He just had to hope it would pay off.

"You wanna know why I wound up in Japan when I should be in a supermax," Jesse said. 

"Yes," Hanzo said. "There is no record of you escaping from prison."

Jesse drew a breath and let it out. "That's because I didn't escape. I cut a deal, with Overwatch."


	11. Chapter 11

_Today..._

Genji's room was still just as Spartan as it had been the day he entered it after leaving the hospital wing. In fact, since Genji had removed all of the furniture, replacing it with only a small charging station, a rack for his blades, and a single block of unfinished wood that he sat upon when meditating to ease the pressure on his stumps, it probably looked even more stark to a human's eyes than an unassigned room would have been.

Genji was even now seated on that block of wood, and had been in the midst of composing himself for meditation. A port on the small of his back was open and Genji had plugged a wire running from the charging station into it, giving the fusion reactor in his chest some relief as he charged from the main reactor in the basement of the building.

A chime sounded, and Genji spoke. "Enter."

As the door slid aside, Genji opened his eyes and and fixed his gaze upon Commander Reyes, who entered the room with an air of uncharacteristic uncertainty about him. The cyborg's ocular implants focused on Reyes' face and called up a variety of unneeded tactical information on his HUD, which Genji dismissed with a thought. 

"Genji, am I interrupting anything? We gotta talk," Reyes said.

"You are not disturbing me. How can I help you, Commander? I apologize that I have no seat for you."

"It's fine." The door slid closed and Reyes leaned against it, folding his arms. "Jesse McCree is missing."

Genji drew a breath of filtered oxygen from his mask and pursed his lips. 

Finally. 

Jesse had left Headquarters nearly a month ago, and Genji hadn't asked where he'd gone, but he had noticed that no one was _talking_ about it, either. Not even when his absence went on for weeks. The only explanation Genji could come up with was that they were actively hiding the information from Genji himself. He had no idea even now if Jesse had fled Blackwatch or was on a mission.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked. 

Gabriel looked uncommonly uncomfortable. "Jesse went to Japan on a mission for Blackwatch," he said, answering the first of Genji's unvoiced questions. "He checked in when he arrived, and said he was going dark as per his instructions, but hasn't sent any messages since, and it's been longer than we would have expected. We're worried he's run into major trouble out there, and you're the best person to get him out. At least, you might be."

"I am familiar with Japan, but I will not be able to pass unnoticed as if I were a typical Japanese citizen. I will need to remain in the shadows," Genji said. "Where did he last check in?"

Reyes actively avoided Genji's gaze. "Hanamura."

Genji stiffened so completely that he imagined the metal comprising half of his body creaked. He had to deliberately restart breathing, forcing his chest to rise and fall. "Why?" he asked, his voice so harsh that with the electronic overtones of his artificial voicebox, it came out as a guttural snarl. 

Reyes sighed and rubbed one of the scars on his cheek. "We received intel a couple months ago that Talon's moving resources there. We don't know if your brother is actively courting them, or if they're trying to move in on Shimada territory. If Talon is allying with Hanzo Shimada, then that's a potential global threat, so I sent Jesse to gather intel and find out their intentions with the Shimada."

Genji was silent for several minutes, rage pulsing in his chest. Of course they had sent Jesse. He wouldn't have an overpowering urge to murder Hanzo, and Hanzo wouldn't recognize him - and nor would anyone in Talon. Now, of course, Blackwatch had a new problem. They needed to send someone to rescue Jesse who wouldn't compromise the mission.

But all they had was Genji.

"You okay, Genji?" Reyes asked in a tone of concern, after a while.

"What do you wish me to do, Commander?" Genji asked again, more stiffly than the first time he had asked, but at least the words were understandable.

Reyes watched him closely for a few seconds before answering. "Infiltrate Hanamura without letting anyone know you're there. Locate Jesse McCree. If he's been captured, retrieve him and get him to safety, and if he's doing all right then get his report. No engagement with anyone but Jesse, unless _absolutely_ necessary."

Genji got to his feet. "Do not worry, Commander. I will not murder my brother this week."

"That ain't what I'm worried about," Reyes said softly as Genji unplugged and began to strap his swords to his back. "I'm worried he'll finish the job."

Genji started in surprise and glanced back at Reyes. "Do not worry about that, either. I will not give him the opportunity."

"Good."

~ ~ ~

Overwatch. 

That was not at all what Hanzo had expected Jesse to say. Overwatch was a large paramilitary peacekeeping organization with a significant, world class _science_ division. To Hanzo's knowledge, they didn't have a history of hiring low-born gang members with prices on their heads. 

But Jesse's admission was so ludicrous, it didn't occur to Hanzo to doubt it. He shifted up slightly, studying Jesse's face. "Why would Overwatch recruit you?"

Jesse shrugged. "They needed a guy with my skills, no connections, and nothin' to lose. I'm not a full agent, more of a contractor. I go where they send me, and behave myself, and I get paid at the end. It's mostly intel gathering."

This explanation calmed a lot of Hanzo's worries. He couldn't allow Jesse to leave if he was a member of Overwatch, of course. But if Jesse was more of a mercenary with a loose association with them, Overwatch probably wouldn't expend a lot of resources to recover him.

However, it certainly raised other worries. Hanzo had never in the past wasted much thought on Overwatch. The Shimada had no particular quarrel with that organization, and he hadn't thought Overwatch had designs on them, though he assumed they would be glad to break the Shimada-gumi if they had a chance. But didn't Jesse's presence mean that Overwatch was now coming after Hanzo? If so, he had to discover the reasons.

"Why would they send you to me, then?" Hanzo demanded. "Is Overwatch coming after the Shimada-gumi?"

"They didn't send me after you, darlin'," Jesse said soothingly, his eyes widening a little with dismay at Hanzo's reaction. His hand brushed down Hanzo's side, distracting, though Hanzo frowned and maintained his focus. He was not about to be turned aside from learning the truth. 

"Then why are you here?"

Jesse hesitated. "Look, I want to tell you, but it ain't my style to just blurt out what I'm supposed to keep secret. I owe Overwatch - they saved me from prison and gave me a chance when no one else would. I promise you that my mission ain't against you, Hanzo."

Hanzo drew away from Jesse and saw fear flicker in the younger man's eyes. Hanzo sat up and shifted into a kneeling position, folding his arms and gazing down at Jesse as the other man propped himself up on his elbows and looked nervously up at him. "I applaud your loyalty, but consider this: I have also expended effort and funds to protect you. Overwatch will disavow you if you are compromised - am I correct? That is why they bring in people who have no connection, no life outside of where they tell you to go, so they can discard you."

Jesse's eyes flicked away, and he nodded, brows furrowing in a frown. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Overwatch is a good organization, from all I have heard," Hanzo said quietly. "But they have also used you, and you have no guarantee they will come for you, but even if they do, they will fail. My people are powerful, my castle is well protected, and Overwatch would create a scandal if they brought war troops into the middle of a civilian population. You are here, now, and I need to know what you know. But there's no reason for us to be enemies. There are opportunities here, for you, if you prove yourself to me."

"I already joined one gang, Hanzo," Jesse said wryly. "Didn't turn out so well for me."

"It is your choice," Hanzo said calmly. "Your position is difficult - I recognize this. But I do not wish to harm you if I don't have to. You are a survivor, Jesse McCree - choose to survive."

Jesse was silent for a long moment. He sat up, crossing his legs, and resting his elbows on his knees. "I'll tell you what you want to know, if you answer a few questions for me just as honestly."

Despite himself, Hanzo was impressed. Jesse was in no position to negotiate, yet he did. 

"Ask your question and I will decide whether to answer," Hanzo returned. "You must know I can't give you a blanket commitment to tell you anything you want to know."

Jesse grimaced, but sighed and raised his head. "Do you or your organization work with Talon?"

Hanzo blinked and a lip curled. "We have no affiliation with Talon. They approached my father, and he turned them away. They have not approached me. Why do you ask this?"

Jesse drew a breath and let it out, a sigh of relief. "Because that's why I'm here. I've heard that Talon's moving in on this area, and Overwatch is worried that they're makin' an alliance with the Shimada. I was sent to verify that, find out what Talon's doing here."

Hanzo felt his shoulders tighten and his stomach pulse with disgust. "Talon are terrorists who wish to sow chaos throughout the world. If they are here, they are not welcome. What did you discover?"

"Nothin' yet," Jesse said, cracking a wry half-smile. "First night I decided to do a little somethin' extra, and mess with a piece of shit sex trafficker you might be acquainted with. Got caught. Wound up gettin' bought by a yakuza crime boss who's sweet on me."

Hanzo stared at him for a long moment, then bent his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That was...very foolish."

"So it turned out," Jesse said with a shrug. "So, darlin', what's the verdict? Is it a hangin' for me, or what?"

Before Hanzo could answer, there was a very light tap on the door. The scent of tea wafted towards them, and Hanzo turned his head. "Leave it there," he said. "Go."

"Yes, kumicho," said a female voice, and then silence, followed by the sound of a door sliding closed. 

Hanzo waited a few heartbeats, then rose and moved to the door. He slid it open and picked up the tray, which bore two portions of breakfast. Beside it was a set of clothing, neatly folded - a set of casual traditional Japanese clothes for house use. Hanzo left that there for now and brought breakfast over to the futon.

"Eat," he instructed Jesse quietly, setting the tray down beside the futon. "I need to consider this."

He reached for the robe he'd been wearing earlier, but Jesse's hand landed on his. "Hang on, there," Jesse said. "You did all that research, and you were up before me. Did you sleep last night?"

"No," Hanzo admitted. "I couldn't sleep."

"No food, no sleep, you plannin' on runnin' on fumes the whole day?" Jesse asked. "You've got a lot on your plate, I know you do, so when do you recharge?"

Hanzo glanced at him suspiciously, but Jesse's face was guileless. Also, he was right. Hanzo was running on fumes, and he was well aware that he had the party tonight. Between the stress of that, the hellish day he'd had yesterday, and the revelations about Jesse himself, he couldn't imagine sleeping or stuffing anything into his roiling stomach. But intellectually, he knew that his body needed fuel.

"I'll be fine," he lied. He made a perfunctory attempt to shake Jesse off, but Jesse tightened his grip on his arm. 

"Just catch a catnap. You got meetings or anything you got to be at?"

"I have nothing I couldn't reschedule, except for my dinner party tonight," Hanzo said, glaring at Jesse. "But--"

"No buts," Jesse said, raising a finger. "Is that dinner party the one you mentioned? The one with the gal you're gonna have to put off?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then you'd better be refreshed and ready," Jesse argued. "Look, if you want me scarce while you sleep, then I'll go somewhere else, but you gotta sleep and get some food in you."

"No, don't go," Hanzo said quickly, then flushed. He might have explained that he had a dozen good reasons not to want Jesse wandering around unattended, sticking his nose into things, but he wasn't sure that would be believed. Jesse was grinning at him, and that expression melted his resolve.

It was remarkable. Even knowing that Jesse wasn't what Hanzo had first believed - that he was far more dangerous, and not only a former gang member, but essentially a spy - all it took was that smile and Hanzo's defenses crumbled.

He tore his eyes away from that expression and frowned. "You are right that sleep and food would do me good. But I'm not sure I can sleep. I don't feel tired."

"That's because you aren't lying down," Jesse said with the conviction of a child. "Lie down, darlin'. I'll take care of it."

 _Take care of what?_ Hanzo wondered, but he obeyed reluctantly. He stretched out on his back and closed his eyes, but his stomach was still in knots and his shoulders tight.

"No, no," Jesse said, prodding him in the side. "Turn over, onto your front."

Hanzo was having flashbacks to the night before, when he had commanded Jesse to do the same thing. He grunted with irritation, wondering what Jesse had in mind, but turned over onto his stomach. "What are you planning?" he asked. He didn't believe Jesse would hurt him - at least, most of him didn't. But he couldn't see how any of this would help him to sleep. 

"Just stay right there. Hang on a sec - oh all right, I see you get all fancy with your breakfast. They even bring you those hot towels, like a nice hotel."

"Jesse McCree, if you keep talking I will definitely not sleep," Hanzo growled.

"You're as prickly as a cactus when you're overtired," Jesse said cheerfully. "I've got a plan. Just trust me."

And then Jesse's hands came to rest on Hanzo's shoulders. They were moist and hotter than they should have been, and Hanzo realized why he had mentioned the towel - he had warmed his hands with it. Jesse's fingers pressed into Hanzo's shoulder muscles, beginning to unwind them with surprising skill, and Hanzo groaned softly.

Jesse worked his way up Hanzo's neck, into his hair, and then down from shoulders to hips, and even kneaded at his buttocks. Though he was untrained, he had definitely done this before, and Hanzo found himself relaxing bonelessly into the mattress. 

"You're manipulating me," Hanzo murmured.

"If you think that, then hand me over to your goons," Jesse said softly. "Or we can work together to deal with Talon."

"I don't wish to hand you over to my goons," Hanzo said. "I just wanted you to be my lover."

Jesse apparently had no answer for that. Or perhaps Hanzo just didn't hear it, before he had fallen into a light, disturbed slumber.


	12. Chapter 12

Hanzo woke several hours later, alone on his futon. 

When he opened his eyes and realized what he'd done, a feeling of sheer panic gripped him instantly. He'd allowed a possible enemy, whose identity Hanzo had just revealed, to lull him to sleep. Then he had slept half the day away, and Jesse was now gone. What had transpired while he was asleep?

"Jesse?" he called out, pushing himself up urgently. His hair was loose and untamed, and fell in his face, and he groped for a ribbon to tie it back with. He had to find the other man before he made contact with Overwatch. 

"Hey, you awake?"

Jesse walked into the room from the outer sitting area. He looked refreshed, his hair brushed and his beard cut back to mere stubble - though how or why he had clearly shaved and yet remained looking half unshaven, Hanzo couldn't imagine. He was wearing the clothes that Hanzo had obtained for him, a button down shirt, robin's egg blue, and a pair of slacks. The slacks were too short on him, showing his ankles, and the shirt strained across Jesse's chest. He was also wearing his belt and hat.

"How long was I asleep?" Hanzo asked, his panic only slightly subsiding. "Did no one come to wake me?"

"Couple a people came by while you were out of it," Jesse said. He groped in his pockets in what looked like a reflexive gesture, but found nothing and hooked his thumbs in his belt instead. "One of them was a nice gal, didn't speak much English, but I think I managed to order lunch because she went away again. And there was a guy later on, Ashari I think? But I told him you'd talk to him later."

"Asahi," Hanzo said. He felt faint. "You spoke to my uncle?"

"Yeah, he said he had some people who wanted to come by tonight to meet you, and wanted to run it by you," Jesse said. 

"He _told_ you that?" Hanzo sat down on the futon again, feeling numb in the wake of the adrenaline rush. "Why would he tell you anything?"

Jesse shrugged. "On account of I told him that you hired me as your replacement bodyguard."

Hanzo stared up at Jesse for a full minute. "My bodyguard," he said flatly.

The self-satisfied look on Jesse's face faded away. "Seemed like the most politic thing to say. I figured you probably didn't want me tellin' just anyone that I'm your fucktoy, and anyway, you need a new bodyguard. Not sayin' that's me, but for now it's believable."

"That was very... clever of you," Hanzo admitted. There might still be a scandal, when people realized that Hanzo was sleeping with his bodyguard, but it wasn't as though Hanzo would be the first to do that. "Yes, I do think that this is the best way forward. Especially tonight."

Jesse's lips ticked up tentatively into a smile once more. "Why tonight?"

"I do need someone," Hanzo said. He finally spotted his hair ribbon, tangled amongst the blankets, and snagged it. As he spoke, he combed his fingers through his hair and tied it up messily, just to get it out of his face. "I can't attend this party without someone to accompany me. You are as good a person to do it as any."

He realized even as he said it that he had made a decision while he slept, after all. Jesse had offered to work together to discover Talon's designs on his city, and Hanzo had decided to take him up on that option.

And perhaps, through that partnership, they would build a stronger and more mutual relationship. The prospect was attractive, even if it was nothing more than a fantasy. It was difficult not to hope that a day would come when Jesse chose to remain, rather than being forced to by circumstances. Giving him something to do that wasn't just related to sex could be a first step towards that.

He rose to his feet again and wrapped his silk robe around his nude body. "We have much to do, and much to talk about," Hanzo said. "I will freshen up and by that time lunch likely will arrive. Then we will discuss the parameters of your stay."

Jesse's eyebrows rose, but he nodded. "Gotcha."

Greatly daring, Hanzo closed the distance between them and slipped his arm around Jesse's waist, tilting his head up for a kiss. He was delighted when Jesse readily granted his unspoken request, kissing him softly and giving him a squeeze. Smiling, Hanzo disengaged before he could give in to further temptation, and headed towards the bathroom. 

"Hey Hanzo? Can I ask for something?"

Hanzo paused, and turned back. "Anything within my power to grant - without betraying my clan - is yours, Jesse," he said, sincerely.

"Woah, slow down there." Jesse laughed softly. "It ain't nothin' major. I was just wondering... if you had any cigarettes. I've been cold turkey since Tanaka caught me, and I'm startin' to jones for it fierce."

Hanzo wrinkled his nose, but nodded. "Ask the servant to bring them. They can get you whatever brand you prefer, though if you need an American kind, it may take longer to get." He paused. "Don't smoke in my room."

Jesse snorted with laughter. "I hear ya. Balcony it is."

"Thank you," Hanzo said, and went into the bathroom to bathe.

The nap had done him a world of good, he realized quickly. He felt focused and calmer than he had all day yesterday, and more optimistic about the future as well. The ritual of showering off the grime of the day before, and bathing in hot, fragrant water also rested and invigorated him. By the time he was drying himself off and dressing for the day, his stomach had settled and was beginning to complain loudly that he hadn't eaten since dinner the day before.

Tempting smells wafted from the other room, prompting an even louder growl from his stomach. Hanzo finished dressing and tied up his hair once more, then emerged from the bathroom, following his nose.

Jesse had laid out the spread - or perhaps the servant had done so - on the low table in the sitting room. Jesse sat on one of the cushions at the table, a little awkward with his legs all akimbo as he struggled with chopsticks.

Hanzo sat down kitty corner to his guest and began to pluck pieces of food from the shared dishes onto a plate, taking a generous portion. "Do you need a fork?" he asked, pointedly not staring at Jesse's abysmal chopstick technique.

"Nah, I got it," Jesse said, and speared a piece of fish on the end of a stick. He brought it to his mouth and chewed with obvious enjoyment.

Hanzo grimaced, scandalized, and bit his tongue violently against a number of things he might have said. Finally, he settled on, "Why in god's name did Overwatch send you to infiltrate a Japanese city? I don't think you can deny it when I say that you stand out."

Jesse chuckled. "Yeah, I stick out like a sore thumb. I was supposed to be a tourist. They didn't have a Japanese guy to send, I guess. I'm sure it woulda worked fine if I hadn't decided to get myself caught."

Hanzo set down his chopsticks as an idea struck him, so obvious that it seemed the height of idiocy that he hadn't thought of it before now. "Of course, you must have things you left behind. We should retrieve them. What hotel were you staying at?"

Jesse gave him a look rather like a deer caught in headlights.

Hanzo returned the look with a level one of his own. "You can keep it a secret, but don't think that I cannot figure it out. It will not be hard for me to discover where you went upon your arrival, given how noticeable you are. So you might as well just tell me, so I can retrieve clothes that fit you." _And whatever else you might have stashed there that you don't want me to know about._

The cowboy's eyes slid away and he sighed. "Yeah, yeah, you're right." He named the hotel and room number and Hanzo made a mental note of it. 

"Good," Hanzo said with satisfaction. "Now, as to your employment."

Jesse's lips twisted wryly. "Not sure it counts as employment, darlin'. You don't pay me, and I don't get to go home at night."

Hanzo dismissed those points with a wave of his hand and ate another piece of fish with rice. "In fact, I _will_ pay you. I will open an account for you today, and deposit a fair wage into it, for both your work as a bodyguard and additional services." He paused and lowered his chopsticks. "That is, if you wish to continue providing me with additional services."

There was an awkward pause, as Hanzo tried to prepare himself. He had never really pursued anyone before, and he knew that the beginning of this relationship was problematic at best. It seemed inevitable that Jesse had only been humouring him, doing what he was required to do, and all of his sweet gestures and kindness had been nothing but an act. 

But that was before. Now, Hanzo had the power and desire to protect him from being used in that way - it would be hypocritical of him not to set the same standard for himself. 

Finally, Jesse spoke, his eyes searching Hanzo's unflinchingly. "What happens if I say no?"

Hanzo's fingers clenched tightly in his lap, and he struggled to keep his expression placid. He didn't want Jesse to lie to him out of fear, and pretend to want him when he didn't. That would be hollow and painful when Hanzo inevitably discovered the truth. 

"I will respect that," he said softly. "Very well, then." He squared his shoulders and picked up his chopsticks, though his appetite had fled. 

Naturally Jesse didn't really want him. Why should he? Any other conclusion was ludicrous. Hanzo had sabotaged that possibility by using him from the start. 

Besides, Hanzo had known since childhood that he was destined for little more than a relationship borne of duty, to produce an heir. Perhaps if he were any other person - a man who was not a monster, a man with charm and the ability to make people like spending time with him, a man who enjoyed the company of women - then he could have found love as well as a good political match. None of that was meant to be, and he was foolish for hoping otherwise for even a moment.

He drew a breath. "There are other rooms nearby. I need to clean out Sado's anyway - he would room next door when it was necessary that he stay close. You can have his room, and be present to attend me for your protection duties when needed."

"Hanzo."

"In any case," Hanzo continued. "The terms are thus: You will begin your duties tonight. You will carry your weapon, with blank rounds only, and will be careful with your own life. I am capable of protecting myself and don't anticipate needing your assistance. As you earn my trust, I will allow you to carry a live firearm, but for now we will maintain a charade that you are there to protect me."

" _Hanzo_."

Hanzo went on doggedly. "You will remain here in the castle, safe but under house arrest. If you attempt to contact Overwatch, the consequences will be severe. There will be no exceptions. If you choose one day to formally join the Shimada clan, and prove your loyalty to me beyond any doubt, then you will no longer be a prisoner. We will induct you into the clan gladly, at that time, I have no doubt--"

Jesse grabbed his hand. " _Darlin'_ , darlin' shut up a minute an' listen to me."

Hanzo looked up into those hazel eyes as Jesse clasped both of his hands in his own bigger, scarred ones. Hanzo's heart beat like a frightened rabbit's. 

"I didn't _say_ no," Jesse said. "God damn, you _are_ adorable sometimes."

"There is no need for this, Jesse," Hanzo protested. "I will not force you, anymore. You need not pretend any longer."

Jesse's expression softened in a way Hanzo had not seen before, and the look of it made Hanzo's heart nearly stop. 

"God _damn_ ," Jesse said with feeling. He looked away, and Hanzo's heart ached with the intensity of his need for Jesse to look at him that way again. Jesse let go of Hanzo with one hand, keeping the other clasped tight around his fingers, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Why the hell would I have to pretend when you're so damn sweet?"

"I don't want to be like the men in your former gang," Hanzo said softly. "It is ridiculous for me to say, I know. I don't deserve your regard or anything from you, but that is how I feel."

"You're _not_ like them, Hanzo." Jesse turned back to him and scooted closer, their lunch forgotten as Jesse sat close to Hanzo with both arms sliding around his shoulders. "None a them would've reacted this way. They wouldn't have thought twice of gettin' me to do whatever they wanted, when they had that power over me. But in two seconds, when I even hinted I might want somethin' different, you didn't hesitate, even though I know it's not what you want. That's-- damn, I don't know what it is, but it's real and I believe in it."

Hanzo's mouth went dry, his heart fluttering in his breast. "Then, you do want me in return?"

"Honey, you are gorgeous enough to make a man sing," Jesse groaned. "And sweet enough to make him cry. I wanted you from the first minute, even though I thought you were gonna be terrible. And then you were nothin' but nice to me."

"So you _did_ know who I was," Hanzo said. 

Jesse leaned in close, until their lips were nearly touching, his voice dropping into a lower register, husky enough to make Hanzo's body tighten with need. "Yeah, I did. But I know a lot more now about who you are than I did then. Startin' to realize I didn't know much at all."

Hanzo's breathing sped up. "Jesse..."

Jesse kissed him with a soft groan. A moment later, Hanzo landed on his back on the tatami floor, Jesse's body covering his. Hanzo's heart raced for a different reason as Jesse thrust his tongue into his mouth and straddled his hips, a need and an urgency in the kiss that hadn't been present in their interactions before. 

Jesse's hands pulled at Hanzo's clothing, unfastening buttons and unbuckling his belt. The carefully-chosen, crisp shirt would need pressing before it could be worn again, but clearly Jesse couldn't care less. And neither did Hanzo, as Jesse pushed the shirt aside and rubbed clever, callused fingers over his nipples, working them to stiff peaks. 

Was this what Jesse was like when he no longer feared him? When he truly wanted him?

If Hanzo had thought he desired the man before, that his touch was addictive, he had had no idea what was possible.

He could only make soft, needy noises into Jesse's mouth as their tongues dueled. Jesse nipped at Hanzo's lip and then soothed the bite with more kisses, as his hands ran greedily over Hanzo's chest and stomach. Then he opened Hanzo's fly and delved inside, pushing his underwear down and cupping his groin, rubbing Hanzo's cock with the heel of his hand. 

"Can't imagine how anyone wouldn't want you, darlin'," Jesse murmured, his voice breathless. 

"It was my brother whom everyone wanted," Hanzo said unthinkingly, and then froze again, thoughts of Genji threatening to crash the mood he was in. Jesse's breath caught in his throat, and he raised his head to look at him. Hanzo made a soft, pathetic noise of need in response, quickly cut off. He turned his head away, shame rising, but Jesse drew him back and kissed him again, softly, over and over.

"Hey now, it's okay. We don't gotta think about him right now," Jesse said soothingly. He reared up and unbuttoned his own shirt, pulling it off. "Get those clothes off, darlin'. I wanna see you."

Hanzo obeyed, glad for something else to think about, and sat up. He shrugged out of his shirt and skimmed out of his pants and underwear. The tatami was soft and smooth under his bare skin. It seemed silly to do this right here on the floor when the bedroom was so close, but the effort of moving to the futon - even if it was no more than fifteen feet away - seemed insurmountable. He didn't want to interrupt what was happening, not for one moment.

Jesse, for his part, stripped out of his clothing with particular urgency. There was no strip tease this time, no show, just an eagerness and a heat in his eyes that made Hanzo's body flush with heat. 

"Jesse?" Hanzo said, just as Jesse leaned forward to kiss him again. Jesse's arms went around him, but paused in the act of laying him back down. Hanzo struggled for a moment, gathering his courage, and plunged ahead. "I... I would like you to take me. If you would."

"Jesus Christ," Jesse groaned, as if the words caused him real pain. "Oh hell yeah, I would. You got some lube or anythin' like that around here?"

Hanzo's heart sped up again. Would it be painful? He could endure pain, but he didn't want to in this context. He swallowed his nervousness, telling himself sharply to stop being a coward. "There's some in the cabinet in my bedroom. Left side, top drawer. I... I use it sometimes for masturbation."

"Gotcha. Gosh, you're so shy, you don't have to explain anything," Jesse said with an affectionate laugh. "Just stay right there, baby. I'll be back in a jiffy." He leaped up with alacrity and headed for the bedroom, then paused and looked over his shoulder. Hanzo had a gorgeous view of his ass and back muscles, but his eyes were drawn to Jesse's mischievous grin. 

"Anythin' else that might be in that drawer that you want me to get while I'm at it?"

Hanzo went red. The look on Jesse's face somehow conveyed a myriad of filthy options Hanzo had no direct experience with. "Ah... no."

Jesse's grin widened. "Too bad. I oughta give you a shoppin' list, or would you rather I just ask the servants to get a few toys for us?"

"No!" Hanzo exclaimed, his throat raw and face filled with horror.

Jesse disappeared through the door, laughing out loud. 

Hanzo laid where he was for a few moments, then turned over onto his stomach, pushing his hips up and legs apart. That was how one did this was it not? 

Then as he held that position, he realized what a strange thing this was for him to be doing. Hanzo, who wasn't even comfortable being naked in his own rooms, since servants could come in at any time. Even now, their lunch was cooling a foot away. Would a servant walk in now, and see their kumicho spread out like a porn star for his new foreign bodyguard?

As the seconds ticked by, another thought occurred to Hanzo - why _hadn't_ anyone poked their head in yet? Did they already know? The walls in the castle were thin. Was there any possibility of keeping this a secret from one and all?

Jesse emerged from the bedroom just as Hanzo was about to work himself into a proper panic, and stopped dead. "Oh damn," he said, his voice breathless with desire. "Darlin', look at you - spread out just for me. It's enough to take my breath away."

It was all worth it.

Hanzo glanced over at Jesse, flushing with pleasure at the other man's words. For more of that sort of reaction, Hanzo realized in that moment he would do nearly anything. "I'm glad it pleases you," he said, the sentiment more genuine than the stiff words might suggest. 

Jesse didn't seem put off by his response. He sauntered over and dropped to his knees, bending to give him a heartfelt and hungry kiss. "It pleases me, hell yeah it does," he said softly. "You comfortable there? Need a pillow?"

Touched by the consideration, Hanzo shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm ready for you."

"Not nearly true, but don't worry," Jesse said with a chuckle. "I'll take care of you, darlin'."

"I believe you," Hanzo whispered, startled. That was certainly a new feeling, the ability to put himself in the hands of another person, and trust that he would be kept safe. To rely on another human being. He wasn't even sure he'd had that kind of a relationship with his own mother. Certainly his father had insisted on harsh truths and unwavering self-reliance.

Jesse ran his hand down Hanzo's back and cupped an ass cheek. "I can't get over how gorgeous you are," he murmured, uncapping the bottle one-handed. He poured some of the lube into his palm and rubbed his hands together. "And that you trust me. That's a mindfuck, that is." He scooted closer and bent, laying down a series of soft kisses that counted each vertebrae of Hanzo's spine. As he did that, he reached around, curling his fingers around Hanzo's cock, which lay flushed and heavy below Hanzo's body, jutting from between his legs. 

Then Hanzo felt fingers probe at his entrance. He closed his eyes and tensed as Jesse slid a finger inside him, expecting discomfort, some kind of pain.

"Breathe, baby," Jesse said, cheek resting against Hanzo's lower back. "Don't get so tense. I'll never fit if you don't relax."

"I'm sorry," Hanzo said, and concentrated on his breathing. "It feels... odd."

"Bad?" Jesse asked with concern. "If it feels bad, then I'm doin' it wrong."

"No, not bad," Hanzo said in a tone of realization. "Not bad at all."

In fact, it was beginning to feel quite the opposite of bad. As Jesse's finger moved in and out, and Hanzo got used to the strange sensation of being penetrated, it was beginning to feel quite good. Hanzo's breathing sped up slowly, and his body relaxed. Jesse added a second finger, which went more easily than the first, and Hanzo soon found himself beginning to make soft, gasping, mewling noises of desire.

"That's it," Jesse murmured. "Fuck, you're incredible. God, I can't wait to be inside you. I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby."

The constant stream of words should have made Hanzo feel self-conscious, or irritated. There was little he found more annoying than people who couldn't keep quiet, and Jesse did seem to fit that category. But instead, the words flowed over him, arousing him even further, making him more eager to elicit more praise and affection.

"I want you," Hanzo gasped. "Please, Jesse."

"Now you're ready for me," Jesse purred. His hand had all but stilled on Hanzo's cock, only stroking slowly to keep him erect. He left his hand where it was, still gently stroking, as he pulled his fingers free, leaving Hanzo feeling empty and eager for more. 

And then Jesse's cock pressed against Hanzo's entrance, and began to press inside.

"Oh..." Hanzo groaned as Jesse's cock began to stretch him, even more than before. He gasped, a thin thread of worry beginning to wind around his heart again.

"Breathe, baby," Jesse reminded him. "Just breathe. I'll do the rest."

Hanzo breathed.

Jesse pressed deep into him, stretching Hanzo open until he felt he couldn't go any further. He was filled to the brim, and gasping, and vaguely aware of Jesse swearing softly and methodically under his breath. 

Then Jesse began to move, and Hanzo couldn't breathe anymore. He cried out, his body jerking in response as Jesse's cock brushed up against his insides and lit up his body like stars. He wasn't aware that someone could come upon them, couldn't care if he did. He couldn't control his reactions in the least, bucking and arching his back eagerly into each thrust as Jesse claimed his body and mind and soul.

Jesse's hand moved rhythmically over Hanzo's cock, jerking him off as he pounded into him hard enough to rattle the dishes on the table beside them. Jesse leaned over him, his hips snapping forward over and over, and kissed his neck, his shoulders, his back, and whispered filthy, sweet nothings into his ear.

After an endless, too-short time, Hanzo felt his body tightening. He cried out again, his whole body going rigid, taut as a bowstring. Jesse gave a yell of his own, rearing up and throwing his head back as Hanzo's body clenched around him. Hanzo felt a rush of heat into him as Jesse climaxed, the heat spreading out and filling him right out to his toes and fingers.

Fluid spattered the tatami, soaking into the bamboo fibres.

Hanzo gradually came back to himself. His own gasps still thundered in his ears, answered by Jesse's rapid breaths. Jesse held him by the hips, the only thing that kept Hanzo from collapsing to the floor. Slowly, Jesse's softening cock slipped free, leaving behind it a feeling of emptiness and a bone deep satisfaction.

"Hey, babe?" Jesse murmured, sitting back on his haunches.

Hanzo pushed himself up, his arms trembling at the effort. "Yes, Jesse?" His voice was raw from his cries.

"I wanna go back to bed with you for a bit. You mind?"

Hanzo couldn't think of anything he wanted more. "Yes, let's."

He got to his feet. He wasn't weary, exactly, but his whole body felt wrung out like a sponge. Jesse was right there, his arms going around him, and they walked together in tandem, somehow not tripping over each other's feet. Hanzo couldn't get there fast enough, and they all but fell onto the futon, Hanzo's head already tucked firmly under Jesse's chin and their arms tightly around one another.

They lay there for a long while, their breathing calming to normal. Hanzo's body tingled pleasantly. 

Out in the other room, he heard soft footsteps and the tinkle of dishes. He turned his head and pushed his face against Jesse's chest with a groan.

"You okay?" Jesse murmured.

"Everyone will know by tonight," Hanzo whispered.

"Fuck them," Jesse said, running a possessive hand down Hanzo's back. "You're Hanzo Shimada. Who cares what they think about who and when you fuck?"

"You're right," Hanzo said, though without much strength of conviction. It _did_ matter what people thought. He relied on the support of the clan to keep it running smoothly. He couldn't be a mere tyrant, using his command of the dragons to solve all problems. 

But fundamentally, he decided that - in this - he wouldn't care. No censure or whispering would motivate him to toss Jesse aside. 

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," Hanzo whispered, his body shivering at the admission. "I cannot bear to lose you."

"Well..." Jesse chuckled softly. "I ain't goin' anywhere." He pressed a kiss to Hanzo's cheek, and petted him, and Hanzo quieted. "And I feel damn lucky to have you, too."


	13. Chapter 13

Jesse was in trouble, and it was finally time for him to admit it to himself.

This wasn't about the fact that he was a prisoner of a powerful criminal organization, bought and paid for through the illegal international sex trade and brought to a heavily fortified castle on a cliff where he was kept under guard. Overwatch had no idea where he was, and likely would never find him, assuming that they were looking for him - which they _probably_ would do eventually. But the pessimistic part of Jesse wondered how long it would take before his teammates concluded that he had returned to his criminal ways and wash their hands of him.

In all of those ways, Jesse was in a fix, to be sure. But he was in _trouble_ , because he was beginning to get very attached to Hanzo Shimada.

Jesse had always shown his heart on his sleeve. It was a source of endless frustration to Genji and Gabriel, and amusement to Moira, that he was categorically incapable of going undercover as anyone but himself. Jesse could lie, especially if he had a good story worked out in advance, but he wasn't really a natural at it. And when it came to his feelings, he was even more helpless at dissembling.

Now, as he cuddled Hanzo to his chest, he felt warm and comfortable, even though intellectually he knew that was crazy. But he really thought he was figuring Hanzo out - he was lonely, more than a bit awkward, and painfully honest at his core. Try as he might, Jesse couldn't detect any ulterior motives to what Hanzo had done since bringing him here, and he had truly started to believe that the man that Hanzo showed him was the real thing. 

And the moment that had really convinced him was when Hanzo - readily and with obvious and almost childlike disappointment - had said Jesse didn't have to continue having sex with him. Jesse honestly couldn't have imagined there was a man in the world who - after literally paying thousands of dollars for sex - would actually give it up so easily.

It had swept away the last of Jesse's doubts. And it had also ramped his desire for the other man up to eleven.

The way Hanzo had then sweetly and shyly asked Jesse to take him had only added the cherry on top of Jesse's libido sundae.

The fly in the ointment was a creeping feeling of guilt about Genji. How the hell could Jesse reconcile the Hanzo that he was coming to know with the merciless killer who had tried to murder his own brother? 

But even if there was more to the story, how could Jesse allow himself to feel so warm and fuzzy about this man, when he was supposed to be Genji's friend and teammate? He had no doubt that if Genji could see him now, or got any hint of how Jesse felt, he would never forgive Jesse.

That wasn't within Jesse's control, apparently. Jesse's affection for Hanzo was rising whether he liked it or not. 

But still, what kind of person was he feeling so much affection for? He was so confused. It wasn't that Jesse doubted that Hanzo was capable of killing someone - he had done it yesterday, right in front of Jesse. But what Hanzo had done to Genji was completely different. It was cruel, brutal, and an act committed on someone Hanzo was supposed to love.

Jesse just couldn't picture it. Hanzo was awkward and stiff, but he didn't show any signs that he might enjoy inflicting pain. He had a temper, but Jesse had a feeling that a lot of it was that he held himself so rigid and controlled all the time that when something exploded out of him, it did so with a lot of force. Like a beer keg under pressure.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Hanzo got angry at Genji.

Jesse smiled down at the smaller man cuddled against him and tried to remind himself not to forget that. It would be so easy.

Hanzo stirred with obvious reluctance, and shifted upwards with a clear intent. Jesse was more than happy to answer that sweet, hopeful look by kissing Hanzo on the lips. It was always worth it for the startled, pleased expression that Hanzo would have when he finished his kiss.

And there it was.

Jesse grinned widely. There was just nothing like that look, to warm a man's heart. He couldn't imagine that it was anything but genuine, and that made all the difference. Hanzo just seemed utterly incapable of playing a guy in order to seduce him - if anything, Hanzo didn't seem to believe that seducing Jesse was possible, and based on the look on his face, he was just surprised and gratified that Jesse wanted him.

"Time to face the day?" Jesse teased. "It's gotta be well into the afternoon by now. You sure you don't just wanna while away more of it?"

"I do want to," Hanzo said, more of that strange honesty for a criminal kingpin. "But I can't. I must check on the preparations for the party tonight, and get ready myself. I also have to fetch your things."

Jesse's stomach clenched at the last comment. He had left the computer on the desk, protected only by a "Do Not Disturb" sign hung on the door, three weeks ago. Assuming the sign had been respected, it would still be there. He had no idea what Hanzo might learn from that computer.

"Guess I'll just have ta lay around here and entertain myself," he said, and dropped his hand down, fondling his groin through the blankets and lifting his lips into a wicked grin.

As he'd hoped, Hanzo blushed. However, his expression also grew severe despite the reddened cheeks. "You shall not," he said. "You are my bodyguard, aren't you? You have to work."

Jesse blinked and took his hand off his dick. "Oh. Right. Yeah I am." He leaned closer, putting his face close to Hanzo's, and felt as much as heard Hanzo's breath catch in his throat. "Lucky for me, I get some great employment benefits."

Hanzo's lips moved, but Jesse didn't catch what he said, it was so breathless and indistinct.

"What's that, babe?"

Hanzo cleared his throat and pulled back a few inches, as though the proximity didn't give him enough air to voice his words. "I said, not in front of anyone else."

"Whaddaya think I am, shameless?" Jesse said, and grinned as Hanzo clearly had to consider his answer to that question. Jesse sobered and continued before Hanzo had decided what to say. "Relax, darlin'. Despite all appearances, I know how to be a professional." He pushed his way up, planted one last - lingering - kiss on Hanzo's cheek and then went in search of his clothes.

Hanzo followed him, looking around nervously as he emerged from the bedroom, in contrast to Jesse's unashamed strut. Instead of their discarded clothing, Jesse found a new set of clothes, cleanly pressed and stacked up with his hat and belt on the table. Right next to the pile, someone had carefully placed a small, unadorned titanium ring - the only other item that Jesse had brought with him to the brothel. Maybe having servants wasn't the worst, he thought, as he pulled them on. They were slightly bigger than the last set, and fit better, which he should probably feel weird about.

Hanzo's clothes had also disappeared, but hadn't been replaced. Then again, Hanzo had a whole closet, which the other man vanished into without hesitating, like he'd expected it. Probably, he had.

"Okay," Jesse commented as he buckled his belt into place. "I think I'm startin' to get how creepy it is that the servants are around watchin' all the time."

"Creepy?" Hanzo's voice was muffled as he dressed in his closet. "I don't know why you'd find it creepy. I simply have to be aware that anything that happens here, which is witnessed by the staff, will be discussed amongst the entire family within hours."

Jesse frowned. "Well, that's creepy, babe. Also, it's like living with a bunch a' ghosts, or somethin'. Weirder than the Cave of Mysteries, how things appear and disappear."

"They are very competent," Hanzo said, apparently driven to defend them by Jesse's comment when he had just been accusing them of being gossips a few moments ago. 

Jesse chewed on that as he buttoned up his shirt - this one a darker shade of blue than the last had been. The slacks were also blue, like jeans, but not the right fabric. "You think any of them speak English like you?"

"I don't know. English is taught in schools here," Hanzo said. He walked from the closet into his bedroom as he talked, fussing with the buttons on his sleeves. "But I would expect most aren't anything close to fluent."

Jesse cocked his head, a tiny suspicion blossoming in his mind. "Hey Han, babe, do you know much about any of your servants? Like, their lives outside?"

"Not really, why would I?" Hanzo asked. He emerged from the bedroom, carrying the case with the bow and arrows, which he'd always brought with him when he came to Tanaka's club. One of these days Jesse would have to find out why he carried them around with him like that.

As warm and fuzzy as Jesse was feeling about the other man, his answer raised a red flag or two. "I dunno, maybe because they practically live in your house? You see them every day. They wash your underwear and pick up your socks for you."

"I don't leave my clothes strewn around usually," Hanzo said defensively. He had his hands curled into fists at his sides, his chin raised defiantly, but his eyes didn't look angry - more confused, as if he felt that Jesse was attacking him and simply didn't understand why. "Are you suggesting that I don't care about the people in my employ?"

Jesse shrugged and picked up the ring, which he slipped onto his right ring finger. He watched Hanzo watching him do that, and wondered if the other man was expecting him to put it on his left. "I ain't tryin' to be down on you as a person, babe. I was just askin' a question, which I think is fair."

Hanzo stepped closer and raised a hand. He hesitated, then pressed his palm to Jesse's chest, over his heart. "If you are worried that I'll mistreat you, I can only assure you that I won't."

Jesse chuckled and caught that hand, squeezing it in both of his. "You've assured me of that already and I believe you."

"But you're concerned about my other people," Hanzo said with a stiff nod. "Because of my reputation. Well, I believe I've always treated the people around me with consideration and that I am fair. I don't mistreat my staff. I know not all of my family can say the same. My own father was a terror to be around at times, that much I can say with honesty."

"Honey, you're puttin' words in my mouth," Jesse said wryly. "I know I'm still gettin' to know you. Who knows, maybe you have a torture chamber in your basement or you beat your people with sticks on Sundays, but so far I've seen no reason to believe that. All I wondered is whether you know anythin' about them, and you said no, and that's a little odd to me. Maybe I just don't get it, because I've never had servants, but it seems like a strange sorta thing to live around someone and not to care to know anythin' about their families, or what they do when they ain't cookin' your meals and makin' your bed."

"Now you're the one who is putting words in my mouth," Hanzo said. "If they wanted to tell me things, I would listen. I have a good memory, as well. But it's not the sort of thing they do with their kumicho."

"You ever told them it was something you wanted?" Jesse retorted gently. "Ever told them you were open to it? Ever asked them questions? Said 'hey, how was your weekend' or somethin'?"

"Of course not," Hanzo said, his eyebrows climbing. "That would put them in a terrible position."

Jesse blinked. "Huh? Why?"

Hanzo searched his expression, clearly bemused. "If their kumicho asks a question, then they must answer it. But what if they don't wish to? Even if they don't mind me knowing the answer, they would surely fear that I am asking for some purpose, not out of interest. As I said, my family is not known for their kindness."

Jesse fell silent, not having an answer to that. 

Hanzo turned away and walked into another adjoining room, jerking his head in a command for Jesse to follow. Jesse followed along, finding himself in an office with a desk and an actual chair to sit on. Hanzo unlocked a drawer in the desk with a fingerprint reader and pulled out Jesse's peacemaker.

Jesse was so startled to see it that his breath caught in his throat. Hanzo handed it to him in an almost ceremonial fashion, the gun held up in both hands.

Jesse took it and checked it. No bullets in the gun, of course, but he slung it into his holster on his belt anyway. "Thanks, darlin'," he said.

"You are welcome. I trust you will not have cause to use it," Hanzo said, a wry smirk on his lips. "As it is really only good as a bludgeon right now. Come along, Jesse." He turned and walked past Jesse out of the room. As he walked, he continued to speak. "Follow where I go, and do not speak unless it is to me, and only when necessary. You should be unobtrusive, but present. I will address you directly if I wish you to do anything other than remain silent and watch."

"Got it," Jesse said. 

Hanzo led him through an ornate set of wooden double doors that Jesse had to mark as the entrance to Hanzo's suite, and into the main part of the castle. Jesse strolled along after him through the corridors. 

Suddenly, he missed his spurs fiercely. As he rolled along, his thumbs hooked in his belt, he knew the sound of the spurs would add to the image he projected.

"Hey boss?" he asked suddenly. "There's a set of spurs in my things back at the hotel. You mind if I have those back?"

Hanzo glanced back at him. There was a wooden set to his expression that Jesse hadn't seen since the first day - or the one time he'd seen Hanzo interact with his cousin. Not a hint of a smile or kindness in his eyes. But he nodded. "Of course, Jesse. We'll be going there, now. Do you have a driver's license?"

"We're what, now?" Jesse stared at him. "Wait, you mean _we_ are going to the hotel?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, no." Jesse frowned.

There was a silence, and then Hanzo looked at him, an eyebrow arching. "Driver's license?" he prompted.

"Ah well, not _with_ me," Jesse said, thinking of the wallet he'd left back at the hotel.

And then he remembered that that wasn't even _his_ wallet. If Jesse had had a driver's license, it would be back at Blackwatch headquarters. And also he didn't, exactly, have one. At least, not a real one.

"I can drive, though," Jesse said helpfully.

Hanzo scowled doubtfully, tugged a cellphone out of his pocket and dialed a number. He spoke a few terse words in Japanese into the phone and then put it away again, then looked at Jesse. "It's fine," he said. "Come."

Hanzo strode away with alacrity, his shoulders straight and his back stiff as if a ruler had been attached to his spine, and Jesse followed. Jesse didn't try to copy him or act the way his old bodyguard probably would have, rolling along with a ground-eating stride that allowed him to keep up easily. 

As they walked, people came darting out of side corridors, most of them polished young men and women carrying clipboards. Many of them had fabrics, utensils, or even samples of food which they fed to Hanzo while he continued on without slowing his gait. All of them asked him urgent questions that Jesse couldn't understand, and Hanzo responded tersely before they fled from him.

No wonder none of them were leaping up to share their weekend plans with Hanzo. Jesse didn't think he'd be quick to invite him out to the bar, either, if this was all he had ever seen of the other man.

"Hey," he said softly, during a reprieve when no one was around. "Unbend a bit. I think you're scarin' them."

Hanzo blinked at him, then rolled his shoulders and took on a looser stance as he walked. Jesse watched, but saw very little difference in how the servants responded to him, though Hanzo really did seem to be making an effort. He still gave short answers, but in a less harsh tone of voice, and the people still seemed pretty nervous as they scurried away.

Well, who knew? Maybe it was the start of something different. Or maybe Jesse was full of shit and rainbows. Maybe it was too optimistic to think that people could really change how they saw Hanzo, when no matter how nice he acted, he was still the head of a yakuza clan.

They stepped out of the building and walked down a garden path, surrounded by fruit trees that shaded them gently and rustled in the breeze. Jesse breathed easier with the wind blowing past him, lifting the brim of his hat and ruffling his hair. Two other men came out of a security station, one of them a skinny tech-looking guy carrying a brief case, and the other one a buff man in a suit that had clearly been tailored, but nevertheless strained across his overly broad shoulders.

Jesse and the second man sized each other up for a second or two, and then the bigger man turned away and spoke to Hanzo. There was a quick back and forth in Japanese and then Hanzo looked at Jesse. "Roll up your sleeve."

Jesse frowned and obeyed, and then saw that the big man had produced a metal bracelet with a blinking green light on the side. He reached for Jesse's arm and Jesse drew his hand away quickly. "What's that thing?"

"Remain still!" Hanzo barked, and Jesse froze. He glared up at the big man because if he hadn't, he'd have turned that expression on Hanzo, and that was probably not a good idea. "It is a tracker," Hanzo informed him, his tone uncompromising and cold. "Allow him to put it on, Jesse."

There was no question that was an order. Jesse looked from Hanzo to the big man and then growled and held out his arm again. The man clasped the bracelet around his wrist, and it locked with an audible click, the diode changing from green to red. The man smirked at him, then turned away without comment.

Hanzo nodded his approval and continued on his way. Jesse rubbed his wrist irritably, tugging his sleeve down to cover the tracker. The security agent fell in beside Jesse as they all followed Hanzo through a door and into a garage with several cars lined up. 

Hanzo barked another command at the security agent, who quickened his steps and got into the driver's seat of the car that Hanzo pointed to. The tech got into the passenger side, and Jesse slid into the back with Hanzo. The case was placed on the seat between them.

"What are these guys for?" Jesse asked softly as the car rolled out of the garage and through the grounds towards the huge gate at the entrance. 

Hanzo glanced at him, then away to look out the window as if bored. "In case they're needed." 

Jesse grunted softly and tried not to feel snubbed. Intellectually, he got it. Hanzo had been acting differently the entire time whenever there was any chance of them being seen by someone other than Jesse. It was uncomfortable, but Jesse had to admit that it only mattered because he'd started caring.

He missed the way Hanzo looked at him when they were alone.

The drive went on in silence as they headed out of the park-like area near the castle and into the city. Jesse soon spotted the hotel up ahead and his heart began to beat faster. He turned to Hanzo. "Hey babe? It's my room, an' for all we know Overwatch is waiting for me there, or has it under surveillance in case I come back. Maybe I should go in on my own. Might make sense to keep a low profile, yanno? I'll just go in, get my things and come back out."

Hanzo turned his head to look at him, and _now_ Jesse saw a frigid wind blow in. He had thought the way Hanzo looked earlier was cold and forbidding, but this was barely controlled anger under a sheet of ice. He shivered as that look was turned full force on him. "Do you believe me to be a fool, Jesse?" Hanzo asked.

Jesse had to look away. He raised his hand, feeling the bracelet shift against his skin, and tugged the brim of his hat down. "No, darlin'. Far from it."

"Then don't treat me like one."


	14. Chapter 14

The car rolled to a stop in front of the hotel and Hanzo stepped out immediately. A valet approached quickly, hand out to take the keys from the driver, but Hanzo waved him away. Seeing that, the valet instantly retreated a step, eyes widening with recognition and fear. 

"Leave it here. We won't be long," Hanzo said. "Ensure no one approaches my vehicle."

The valet bowed. "Y-yes, sir."

Hanzo paused, though Jesse and the other men had gathered around him, waiting expectantly. He swept his eyes over his lover, and then up and down and across the street. Jesse had let slip that Overwatch could be coming to rescue him, despite his earlier protestations otherwise. 

Was that a lie to give Jesse an opportunity to slip away or hide something he didn't want Hanzo to see? Or was his first statement - that Overwatch would care nothing for his fate - the lie?

Either way, Hanzo saw no sign that Jesse was looking for anyone outside, nor did he detect him making any sort of signal to a comrade. Jesse's head was lowered, his eyes darting back and forth, but in a way that made Hanzo think of any well-trained man - or a paranoid one. Just standard situational awareness.

Perhaps there was nothing to worry about, but Hanzo doubted it. Either way, Jesse didn't want him going into that hotel room, and that _was_ worrisome.

Satisfied that they were not about to be ambushed, Hanzo walked into the hotel and looked towards reception. He gestured to Jesse wordlessly.

Jesse swallowed nervously and turned towards the reception desk - and then his entire manner transformed. He sauntered over and leaned on the desk, tipping his hat up and giving the girl on the other side a flirtatious wink. "Hey there, darlin'," he said. "Long time no see. I've been off havin' such a good time since rentin' the room, and gosh darnit, but my wallet was stolen and I lost my room key. You don't want to know what I had to do to get back here. My thumb's gettin' sore from askin' for rides."

He grinned. "I know you'd probably want to see my ID, but I sure do hope you can help me out."

The girl, who clearly did understand Jesse's English, had glanced towards Hanzo nervously as Jesse first approached, but was clearly put at greater ease by Jesse's manner. She blushed and nodded. "Why, of course, Mr. Daniels. I remember you, and I can certainly help you with that." Her eyes darted to Hanzo again. "Ah, will you be needing just one room key?"

"One'll do nicely, thank ya' kindly." The other girls at reception were twittering at the American's manner, hiding their smiles behind their hands, their eyes dancing as they looked with utter fascination and delight at Jesse.

Hanzo fumed.

After an interminable few minutes, ostensibly spent while the girl programmed a new card key for the room - but _clearly_ she was taking her sweet time about it as she flirted with Hanzo's lover and he drew out every personal detail from her, from her weekend plans to the name of her child - she finally handed the key over. "Enjoy the rest of your stay, Mr. Daniels."

"He'll be checking out today," Hanzo snarled, too loudly. Everyone jumped, and he modulated his tone. "Please draw up an invoice for any unpaid incidentals that are outstanding. We will be back shortly." He turned and marched towards the elevator.

Hanzo glared at the elevator button, arms crossed and back ramrod straight until Jesse pushed it. Then he glared at the elevator doors until they opened. Finally, he glared at the buttons above the door as they counted upwards.

"What's wrong?" Jesse murmured. He was turning the card key over in his hand as if doing a magic trick, flipping the card into his palm, and then to the back of his hand. Once, Hanzo saw him slide it up his sleeve so deftly that it disappeared, then appeared again in his other hand. He made a mental note never to play cards with Jesse.

"Nothing," Hanzo ground out. The doors opened, and they walked to Jesse's door.

Jesse sighed and scanned the key through the reader, then opened the door wide for the others. "Mi casa es su casa," he said heavily. "Mind the mess, I wasn't expectin' visitors."

There was no mess. There was a suitcase open on the floor by the desk, and a device on the table. 

"Sir," the tech said. "Please remain in the hallway while we check the room for hazards."

Hanzo nodded. "Jesse, stay here with me," he ordered. Jesse paused on the threshold of the room, then retreated with a shrug as the two Shimada-gumi staff headed inside. The security agent drew a gun and checked the room for intruders or traps, peering into the bathroom and covering the corners before putting the weapon away. 

The tech headed for the device on the desk and opened his case. He scanned it, then called out. "No explosives detected. Please stay where you are for the moment, kumicho, while I confirm."

Jesse couldn't understand what they were saying, but he watched with curiosity and a dawning understanding. "Were you worried I set a trap?"

"Didn't you?" Hanzo blinked and looked at him with honest surprise.

"Er...no?"

Hanzo stared. "Why not? You are an espionage agent. You have enemies."

Jesse looked back at him with a queer expression - part abashed, and part indignant. "What if the maids had come in and I blew the place up? There's nothin' that sensitive in there, an' I put out the sign." He pointed to the 'do not disturb' tag that was hanging from the doorknob.

 _He put out a SIGN?_ "If there's nothing so sensitive in the room, then why have you been trying to keep us away from it all day?" Hanzo demanded.

"Because," Jesse said uncomfortably. "I mean, obviously there's Overwatch tech I'm not supposed to hand out to criminals, Han. But that computer don't got a direct line to them or nothin'. It's just proprietary, and it ain't mine to give away."

"So you're saying that computer on the desk is the only thing you wanted to keep a secret from me?" 

"That's what I'm sayin', yeah."

"The room is clear, sir," the security agent called to them. "You may enter if you wish." 

Hanzo started forward, but Jesse's hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned back. Jesse searched his expression, brows furrowed. "Hey baby," he said softly. "Talk to me really. I know you gotta be weird about things in front of them, but are you mad at me about somethin'?"

"Am I--" Hanzo stared at him for a long moment. "You perform that outrageous display at the desk, and then wonder if I might be upset by it?"

"What?"

That guileless look in Jesse's eyes, the wounded confusion - it had to be a lie. Hanzo felt his rage spike at the sight of it. "Why did you flirt with that woman? Am I so meaningless to you, that you are already looking for the next score? Perhaps you plan to come back here the moment you escape from my side and see if she's up for a romp in the sheets!"

He was shouting, and aware of it, but unable to stop. The anger and hurt came bursting out of him, and the dragons roiled inside him in response, ready for action. He was acutely aware of Stormbow in its case, which he held with a grip so tight his hand was throbbing. 

"Woah, woah there," Jesse said, his hands up placatingly and his eyes wide. "Hang on, darlin', just slow down. It ain't like that at all."

"Then how is it?" Hanzo demanded. "What is it like?"

Jesse's brows were furrowed even more deeply now, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just tryin' to smooth the way. She don't mean anythin' to me. You sayin' you never was nice to someone to get them to do a favour for you?"

"Not like that," Hanzo said coldly. 

Jesse spread his hands helplessly. "Well, that's how I do it. But it's got nothin' to do with you, and I wouldn't cheat on you, even if I liked her - which I don't. That's not the kinda guy I am."

"Sir, is everything all right?" The security agent was standing in the doorway, looking at Jesse with deep suspicion. At the realization that both of his staff were watching him have a lover's quarrel with Jesse right in the hallway of a hotel, Hanzo recalled himself and swallowed down the remains of his anger.

"All is well," he said stiffly. "Show me what you've found." Shoulders so tight he was beginning to get a headache, Hanzo strode into the room, with Jesse following docilely at his heels.

"This is a sophisticated tablet device, sir," the tech said, picking up the computer and handing it to Hanzo. "I believe we need to analyze it more deeply at my lab to discover all of its capabilities. It seems to have an advanced AI, and the ability to send encrypted messages."

Hanzo looked at Jesse. "This is how you communicated with your handlers?"

Jesse nodded reluctantly. "Yep... That's right."

Hanzo handed the computer back to the tech. "Discover its secrets. I don't want it taken to the castle until its fully analyzed, in case there's a tracker inside or any surprises."

"Yes, kumicho," the tech said, bowing. "Other than this, we found no advanced or unusual technology. I will take this to one of our satellite offices for analysis." He turned to pack up his equipment.

The security agent was next with his report. "Most of what's in the suitcase is clothing and sundries that any tourist would carry. There is a false panel inside the suitcase, shielded from all scans. It was mostly empty, except for these." He handed Hanzo a box of bullets that he saw immediately would match the gun hanging at Jesse's hip, and a pair of spurs. "There is also a wallet with his identification, some cash, and a passport with his picture as well." He handed these to Hanzo.

Hanzo nodded and opened the passport. He looked at the picture and the information, then glanced at Jesse. "Nathan Daniels? How many false names do you have?"

"One for every occasion," Jesse said with a smirk. Hanzo could tell he was joking, trying to lighten the mood.

He wasn't amused. Hanzo handed everything back to the agent. "Pack all of his belongings in the suitcase, we'll be bringing it with us. Have you thoroughly swept for trackers?"

"Yes, sir," said the tech. "No tracking or listening devices in his belongings or in the room. We double checked the compartment in the suitcase as well, but there doesn't seem to be anything else concealed within it."

"Good." He looked at Jesse. "Is this everything of yours?"

Jesse watched them packing his belongings into the suitcase with narrowed eyes, and shrugged at the question. "That's everythin'. I didn't even get to sleep in the bed, let alone unpack, before I went out and met our friend Tanaka."

Hanzo glared at him penetratingly, but could sense no sign that Jesse had lied. Not that that apparently meant anything. Hanzo was beginning to doubt his ability to tell when Jesse dissembled.

But there was no way to know, and Hanzo had no more ideas to extract the information from Jesse for certain, so he let it go.

"Then we're going." Hanzo turned and switched to Japanese. "Send a team to do a more thorough sweep before the end of the day and pay the hotel for the trouble. Someone should arrange payment of his hotel bill and bribe the staff. He and we were never here. Now come along, I'm finished here." 

"Yes, kumicho," both Shimada staff said, bowing in unison, and moving quickly to finish packing and making ready to leave. Hanzo turned away and marched back out to the hallway to wait. Jesse continued to follow him in a kind of hangdog silence, his eyes darting to Hanzo every few seconds. The others finished what they were doing and joined them shortly, and they all headed downstairs in a stiff silence.

The drive back to the castle was similarly oppressive. The edge of Hanzo's anger had blunted, but he still felt a slow, simmering resentment that bubbled away the whole way back. Thankfully, Jesse didn't try to engage him on it again, sitting silently and looking out the window, or glancing at Hanzo with a worried frown.

Indeed, he should worry. Hanzo held his fate in his hands. He had no wish to harm the other man, but if Jesse had been manipulating him this whole time, then that would not be good for his status. Much hinged on Hanzo's ability to trust Jesse, and now Hanzo had to wonder if all of those sweet nothings - even as recently as this morning - had only been an attempt to manipulate him.

Wasn't it possible that Jesse was choosing to continue to have sex with him because of what he hoped to get out of it, not because he truly desired Hanzo, as he had claimed? Hanzo had offered him freedom from that obligation, but Jesse might have - rightly - calculated that Hanzo would be blinded by emotions if he professed to desire Hanzo as much as Hanzo desired Jesse.

They dropped the tech off at one of Hanzo's other buildings, then returned to the castle. Hanzo and Jesse walked back to Hanzo's rooms, Jesse carrying the suitcase.

When they finally passed through the doors that separated Hanzo's rooms from the rest of the castle, Jesse broke the silence instantly.

"Okay, darlin', let's have it out," he said, dropping the case on the floor and turning to him. "We're here now. It's just us. Come at me and get it off your chest proper, because I can't take this cold shoulder thing one minute longer."

Hanzo had much to say, but he immediately bristled. Jesse still believed that he had done nothing wrong? He still wasn't going to properly apologize? 

"There is nothing to say that I haven't already said," he said. folding his arms. Somehow, he managed to look down his nose at Jesse, even though the cowboy was taller. "Except that I wonder just when things changed. You claim that she is different from me, that she is meaningless, and yet you wish me to believe that I hold meaning to you?"

Jesse spread his arms wide. "Of _course_ you do, baby."

"Do not placate me! You treated her no differently than you treated me at the beginning!" Hanzo snapped, his face hot. "Don't pretend that it's different. You simply wanted something from her, as you wanted something from me."

"Yeah, I did." Jesse's hands landed on Hanzo's shoulders, gentle and grounding. "And at the beginning I thought you were a monster, darlin', and all I wanted from you was not to get my ass beat. But I know different, now. So calm down."

The physical contact calmed him slightly, but he pushed against it, not wanting to simply sink into the comfort that Jesse offered. He jerked away from Jesse, retreating a step. "Why did things change, then? When? Was it after we were together the first time? The second? Was it after I saved you? Was it not until this morning when I told you you need not service me? This is so new that I only discovered your real name last night - and you didn't even tell me that. How can you say that I mean anything to you?"

Jesse's brows furrowed and he shifted from foot to foot. "I ain't gonna apologize for not trustin' you instantly on meetin' you, Hanzo," he said. "Nor can I fault you for not trustin' me. The way things came together between us wasn't the best way, and even now things are queered. It ain't normal or comfortable and I ain't gonna pretend like we're just two regular guys who met in a bar and are goin' out in the usual way. But you can't expect it to be, so... so if you can just tell me what I can do to reassure you that the way I am with you isn't some kind of manipulation, I'll do it."

Hanzo looked up at him helplessly. How _could_ Jesse convince him? That question stumped him instantly, and he felt his anger fading as a result. "I don't know," he admitted. "If I were in your shoes, I would die before I gave any quarter or showed a hint of weakness. Yet you so easily make people like you. How can I know if what I feel is genuine? No one has ever treated me the way you do. It is dangerous."

Jesse raised his hands and stepped closer, very slowly, like he was approaching a wounded and cornered animal. "You an' I are very different people, Hanzo," he said. "I've learned to protect myself by makin' people like me. You've protected yourself by puttin' a wall between you and the world. And yeah, I used that manner I have to make you like me from the beginning. So maybe the only way I can earn your trust is with time. No one can keep that kinda thing up forever, unless it's genuine. At least, I don't think so."

Hanzo allowed Jesse to close the distance between them this time, and when Jesse's hands went around him, he leaned into the embrace. He let out a breath, feeling all of the poison flow out of his body with it. At least, most of it.

"I cannot do this," Hanzo said. 

Jesse made a soothing noise and tightened his hold on him. "If it'll help, then I won't flirt with you no more," Jesse said. "We can make this professional and leave it at that. But it won't be because I don't want to be with you, baby. You ain't the only one who's conflicted about all this, you know, but I'm willin' to try. If you can't, then you can't, and I'll understand."

The thought of giving up the incredible things Jesse had done for him was unthinkable. Hanzo's mind shied away from the idea instantly, even as another part of his brain whispered that this, this _exactly_ was why he should immediately shut this down. It was nothing but a weakness, an indulgence. Something he could not risk, and did not deserve.

However, Jesse was right that Hanzo was not the only one taking a risk. Jesse had been hurt before, so deeply that it was unimaginable to Hanzo, and yet he was willing to put his life in Hanzo's hands. He had yet to try to escape or give any hint that he was anything but resigned to the situation. Hanzo could do much worse.

He tightened his grip for a few long moments, breathing in the musky, male scent of Jesse, mixed with leather and gun oil. Then he drew away, and Jesse let him go with obvious reluctance.

Hanzo looked down at the floor for a few moments, thinking, then raised his head. "I apologize, Jesse, for overreacting earlier," he said, bowing his head briefly, then meeting Jesse's hazel eyes once more. "You are the first person I've ever felt this way about, and it is...new, and fragile, in so many ways."

"Yeah, it is," Jesse agreed softly, his lips twisting wryly.

"I don't want to make things merely professional between us," Hanzo went on. "Perhaps it would be the right thing, the intelligent thing, but I simply don't want to. That, too, is new for me."

Jesse chuckled indulgently and lifted a hand. He cupped Hanzo's cheek with his palm, and rubbed his thumb back and forth across Hanzo's lower lip. "Seems to me that you would benefit from doin' one or two things just because you want to, and not because it's what's smart or expected. Everyone's gotta do somethin' dumb once in a while, just for themselves."

"I don't know if that's true," Hanzo said stiffly. "But in this case, I decided a while ago to indulge myself, and I have yet to truly regret it." He drew a breath, and let it out, feeling tension run out of him. "I want you, Jesse. I cannot deny that."

Jesse kissed him, softly and sweetly. "I want you, too," he murmured. "Look, nothin' in this world is perfect. But there's no reason we can't carve out a little happiness for ourselves for a while, right?"

Hanzo nodded, allowing his eyes to slip closed. Jesse held his face cupped in both hands as they kissed, and Hanzo's fingers clenched in Jesse's shirt tightly. Something about this man had always made him feel so safe in his hands. Despite all his worries, Hanzo was still able to sink into the reassurance Jesse offered, and feel as though things would be okay.

Finally, though, he drew away. "I must prepare for tonight. My guests will be arriving."

"Sure," Jesse said, straightening up and hooking his thumbs in his belt. "Well, for the record, you're lookin' pretty as a picture already, so in my books you're all ready for the party."

Hanzo smiled wryly. "I'm flattered. Are you ready to go, or do you wish to change?"

Jesse blinked, then shook his head. "Just one thing, and I'll be ready." He moved to the suitcase and opened it up, rummaging inside. After a moment, he came up with the spurs and then knelt to buckle them onto his cowboy boots.

"You... you're going to wear those?" Hanzo asked, scandalized. "You will destroy the tatami."

"What's tatami?" Jesse asked, looking up with his fingers still on the buckle of the spur. 

Hanzo stamped lightly on the floor. "The bamboo flooring is delicate. It's bad enough that you're walking on it in your boots. The spurs will scratch the wooden floors, too, and they can't be so easily replaced."

"Don't fuss," Jesse said with a laugh. He adjusted the spur and stomped lightly, making the spur clink. "See? It won't touch the floor." Indeed, the spur sat higher on the boot than Hanzo expected, nowhere near the floor. 

"Very well," Hanzo said grudgingly. "I will try not to be a stick in the mud about your...eccentricities. Now are you ready?"

Jesse tightened the buckle on his other spur and straightened again, rolling his shoulders and then sticking a noxious-looking cigar between his lips. "I'm ready," he said around the cigar, and grinned. "They're gonna love me."

Hanzo snorted, but couldn't help smiling as he turned away. "They are going to feel something," he agreed. Normally, he might have felt ridiculous walking through the corridors with such a caricature at his back as his sole attendant, but today it felt good. 

Like a secret that only he and Jesse shared.


	15. Chapter 15

Genji didn't walk into the hotel where Jesse had been staying via the front door.

He had arrived that morning via dropship, hitching a ride on a scientific expedition to investigate the long term effects of background radiation on Omnics living in the Fukushima area, which had been otherwise abandoned since a meltdown in the local nuclear power plant long before Genji was born.. He made his way from the dropship to Hanamura, a trip of only an hour or so, clinging to the exterior of a train.

The trains went over 600 kilometres per hour. Even with his body fully covered by armour, it was exhausting to endure the trip, but he hadn't wasted any time upon his arrival. He had no wish to linger, and could manage without rest for a while.

Being back in Hanamura, under the oppressive shadow of the castle, made what was left of his stomach twist with nausea. He couldn't wait to get out of this city. So he went straight to the last known location of the missing agent, which was a hotel that Genji was pretty familiar with. He had attended more than a few parties with various celebrities, held in the penthouse of this hotel. The last time had been less than a year ago, mere days before his confrontation with Hanzo.

Though he knew Jesse probably hadn't booked the penthouse, Genji scaled the wall and gained access to the roof near to where the penthouse was located. A quick peek through a window confirmed that the room was unoccupied at the moment. Then, Genji climbed onto the balcony, swinging himself out over empty space and then over the railing to land lightly.

To most thieves, this balcony would seem no different from any other in the large, luxurious hotel, but Genji was intimately familiar with the mechanism of this particular lock. On that 'memorable' evening - in reality an evening he barely _could_ remember through a haze of alcohol - he had become locked out on this balcony.

An enterprising Genji had picked the lock to get back in, damaging it slightly. Assuming that the hotel hadn't made major changes to their security, Genji could easily do the same thing again.

And indeed, when he brushed his metal finger over the lock, he felt the faint scratches he had inflicted on the lock the last time. It was a simple effort of will to make a slender pin eject from the tip of his cybernetic forefinger. He stuck the pick in the lock. With a quick jiggle and a twist, the lock disengaged and Genji slid the door open.

He moved swiftly through the hallways, to the stairwell, and down to the main floor. He didn't know which room Jesse had been staying in, but it wouldn't be difficult for him to figure it out if he accessed the computers.

Once on the main floor, Genji slid stealthily through a staff-only door and navigated his way through the back corridors to the main office. He turned the knob silently and entered, checking that the room was empty before he went in. There was a computer terminal in the middle of the room, but through an open doorway, he could see the front reception desk, and several women standing there, greeting arriving guests. One of them need only turn their heads and they would see him, if he tried to use the computer - he would have to wait for an opportunity.

He climbed the wall and shifted aside one of the panels in the drop ceiling. Within moments, Genji was inside the ceiling, hanging upside down with his metal hands - one cybernetic, and one encased in powered armour - sunk deep into the concrete to anchor him. He braced himself between one of the load bearing wooden cross-beams and a wall, and settled in.

The girls who worked at the front desk bustled in and out of the room, sometimes sitting at the desk computer in the room, and other times searching for keys or rummaging through files. He waited, as still as a stone, until an influx of customers arrived on a tour bus. In moments, all of the girls were occupied at the front desk, and Genji came down from his perch and moved to the computer.

He had already memorized the login from watching the women type it in. He entered the password and the screen cleared, bringing up the guest management software.

With a few keystrokes, he brought up the record of Mr. Daniels, Jesse's pseudonym for this mission. Genji scanned the information, and frowned. Jesse had checked in on time, but had checked out earlier today, only hours ago.

He should have been checked into the hotel for another week, pre-paid. If Jesse had had something happen to him, then his record would still be active because he wouldn't have been able to come here to check out. And if Jesse's mission was going well, he _also_ would still be checked in. Genji couldn't think of a legitimate or innocent reason why he would check out after three weeks of radio silence.

He logged out of the computer and quickly stole out of the office before the rush of customers died down and one of the women noticed him. He moved swiftly back to the staircase and went up the stairs to the floor that Jesse's room was on. If he had only checked out earlier that day, it was possible the cleaning staff wouldn't have gotten to the room yet. Maybe Genji could find a clue about what had happened to Jesse.

When he got to the floor, Jesse's door was already open, but there was no cleaning cart in sight.

Genji was halfway down the hallway when a man in a black suit came out of the room and turned in his direction. In the split second before he would have been seen, Genji managed to duck into the alcove where the ice machine was located. He leapt upwards and flattened himself on top of the humming machine, and watched with sharp eyes as the man strode past.

He recognized him, but even if he hadn't known the man's face, Genji would have recognized the bearing, the clothes - everything. This was a member of the Shimada-gumi's security staff.

Genji's stomach churned even more than before. He didn't bother to make his way to Jesse's room - he knew he wouldn't find a trace of Jesse if the Shimada had already gotten to the room to clean it out.

Instead, he left the hotel. He made his way across the rooftops of several buildings until he found a flat apartment building with a rooftop greenhouse. Entering the cool, moist interior of the greenhouse, Genji concealed himself amongst the rows of plants and crouched down. He pulled the computer out of his bag and turned it on.

"Athena, run a search for Agent McCree's tracking device." 

"Acknowledged."

The screen displayed a map of the city and a circle rotated in the corner, indicating that Athena was running the program. Genji held his breath for a few moments. If Jesse was alive, the tracker would still be functional, but only if it was still on his body. It was designed to become inert when not in contact with a person's skin, so that testing would not reveal the miniaturized technology embedded inside it. Also, an Agent could easily deactivate it and prevent the signal from being detected, by taking it off and putting it in a pocket or bag. But if Jesse were dead, or captured and the tracker had been taken from him, Genji might not be able to locate him.

"Location found," Athena said. A pulsing red arrow pointed straight at the location on the map where Jesse's tracker signal was. 

Genji let his breath out in a rush and sighed. If only he were surprised. His stomach churned.

"Athena, send a message to Commander Reyes."

"Go ahead, Genji," said Athena. 

"Commander," Genji said. "I have located McCree's hotel room. It is empty and cleaned out as of today. I have tracked him to his current location and determined that he has been taken by the Shimada. His signal is still functioning, for now."

He felt an unexpected stab of pain. Though Jesse was alive, there was no telling how long he would last under Shimada torture. He drew a breath and continued. "I will make an attempt at rescue immediately, but security at Shimada castle may be too much for me to penetrate alone. End message."

"Message sent."

Genji closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head back, struggling against a wave of emotions - fear, anger, frustration. When he opened them again, he saw Shimada castle looming above him.

Apparently, he would have to go home sooner than he thought.

~ ~ ~

Hanzo entered the dining hall accompanied by the ringing song of a cowboy's spurs. It was probably the most bizarre party entrance any kumicho had ever made. 

By design, he arrived after all the rest of the guests had taken their seats around the huge banquet table. It was a massive heirloom, carved from a single raw piece of wood. He paused to survey the attendees, who all rose from their chairs as he entered the room and bowed low. Each of them had attendants who stood around the edges of the room. A single chair stood at the nearest end of the table, also carved of wood and designed with two twining dragons whose necks coiled around one another and then turned outwards. The faces pointed to either side, forming wings that would frame Hanzo's body when he sat. 

"Welcome to all of you," Hanzo said. "I am honoured to host so many from our family tonight. Please, be seated. I hope that you enjoy this humble meal we have prepared."

A servant rushed forward and pulled out the chair for Hanzo, and he sat. Water and sake were poured. Jesse stood back a few paces from his chair and leaned against the wall, folding his arms and settling in as comfortably as if he were seated himself.

Hanzo ate his meal without engaging much in conversation. He recognized nearly everyone at the table, though some had brought along spouses or family members he didn't know. He saw his uncle Asahi a few seats down, who chatted amiably with the wife of another of Hanzo's older relatives on his right side. 

Yamamoto was also there, with his granddaughter Minako seated by his side. The girl's hair was done up with a pretty beaded ornament holding it together, and wisps of hair hung to frame her face. Whenever he looked at her, she had her head down, her hair obscuring her features as she ate what looked like only a few bites from her plate. He wondered if she was frightened to meet him.

Well, he wasn't about to mistreat her, but if she _weren't_ enthusiastic about the match, it would make things easier in the long run.

He felt somewhat better about the uncomfortable interaction he was likely to suffer, but still, he called for more sake.

Hanzo's great uncle Sakamoto Goro - Asahi's father - was seated at his right hand. He was the oldest living member of Hanzo's family, and currently stood as the patriarch of the elder council, even though he technically didn't share Shimada blood as he had been inducted into the family when Hanzo's mother had married his father. 

He and Hanzo chatted quietly about shogi for several minutes, and Hanzo promised to visit him soon to play. By this time, Hanzo had had a couple of glasses of sake, and was feeling pleasantly loose. Maybe he could handle this Minako. All he had to do was be polite and make no promises, maybe show her some flowers and bore her to tears.

Hanzo was totally capable of boring her to tears. Of that, he was sure.

Goro was speaking, though, and Hanzo focused through the haze. "Seems to me you could stand to get out of this old castle more often," Goro opined as he sampled a shellfish dish. He clicked his chopsticks together thoughtfully. "Well, you've _been_ out recently, haven't you. But not doing anything you ought to be doing, if I may say so."

Hanzo grimaced, his heart suddenly speeding up and the fog retreating. Surely his great uncle wasn't speaking of his tryst with Jesse, was he? Could it be that the whole story of what happened with Tanaka - who Hanzo was relieved to see had skipped this party - had made the rounds already? He glanced back at Jesse without intending to. Like the other bodyguards and lower Shimada clan members who had been allowed to attend, Jesse was eating his own meal, holding a plate in his hand and struggling with the chopsticks. He saw Hanzo looking at him and dropped an eyelid in a cheeky wink.

Quickly, Hanzo turned back to his great uncle, trying not to blush.

"What do you mean?" Hanzo asked, as innocently as he could muster.

Bushy, white eyebrows shot up. "Why, I heard you were attacked just yesterday, my boy," he said. "Had to use the dragons in front of half the police department. I note they didn't do anything to help, the fucking bastards. But what you were doing there in the first place, I can't imagine."

_Oh..._

Hanzo shouldn't have felt such relief after receiving a tongue lashing like that, but he did.

"Ah, yes," Hanzo admitted. "I wished to inspect the latest shipment which had been attacked. It seemed safe enough to chance the outing, but it turns out that an ambush had been laid." He shrugged. "I was unharmed," he added with careful dismissal, though he felt a qualm - Sado wasn't fine, but his great uncle wouldn't consider the loss of a single bodyguard to be worthy of note. That was what bodyguards were for, after all - to die for you.

"Yes, yes, you were fine, and that's a relief," Goro said, breaking into a crooked grin. "You've got to be careful, though, not to take unnecessary risks. You haven't even got an heir, yet. What're you doin' in that regard?" 

Hanzo swallowed panic. It wasn't exactly normal to be confronted so directly on such a delicate topic. "I, uh--"

Goro chuckled and reached out, topping up both of their sake glasses. "That bad?"

"No, I..." Hanzo's eyes flicked from side to side. "I-I am entertaining a suitor tonight, in fact," he said. Oh that was such a bad thing to say. "Though, I don't wish to make a hasty decision. My father chose well, and I would strive to find someone as fitting as my mother to continue the line."

Goro snorted derisively. "Your mother was heir to a fortune, and a businesswoman with contacts that allowed the Shimada-gumi to delve into more legitimate areas of commerce, to cover their illegal businesses with a veneer of respectability. Your father chose _intelligently_." He lifted his eyes to Hanzo. "As you should do. Love is a luxury, Hanzo, not a necessity, especially for you. What matters to everyone at this table is your genes, not your heart."

Hanzo's throat had gone dry. Abruptly, he felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and that every person around him was staring at him, though he knew that none of them were even looking in his direction. Goro implied that all of them were, in truth, merely waiting for him to have a child. At that point, would he become as expendable as Genji had been? 

How had his father dealt with that pressure? Was that why he had been so cold? Hanzo's father had always expected Hanzo to focus on his studies and work, discouraged him from having relationships with anyone, least of all his own brother. Genji had been coddled as a child, but turnothing but a layabout, a playboy, with no expectations and no respect accorded him by their father. Hanzo had been the elder son, the heir, and the one who could not stray from the path for even a moment without severe consequences.

Genji had been allowed to be free, and he had died for it.

There was a rushing in Hanzo's ears and the edges of his vision were going black. He drew a deep breath, swallowed another sip of sake and somehow found his voice even and cool. "Thank you for your advice, great uncle."

Goro shrugged, and his eyes slid to Jesse. "I see you've hired someone new to take your old bodyguard's place. Unusual outfit."

Hanzo swallowed again, and affected a careless smile. With his attention turned to Jesse, and away from memories of Genji, his heart began to slow and his breathing calmed. "Him... I picked him up recently. American, obviously. He was in need of a job, and has the skills I was looking for."

"Outsider, though," Goro said thoughtfully.

Hanzo shrugged. "I expect he'll take the vows soon enough, once he has proven himself."

Watery dark eyes turned on Hanzo, unexpectedly sharp. "Sometimes an outsider is a good investment, Hanzo," he said, lowering his voice. "Particularly if you suspect treachery on the inside. Do you?"

Hanzo started, his eyebrows now climbing. "I... would not make any accusations at this time," he said. "That is not why I hired him, uncle. He... he just fit my needs."

"Did he."

Again, Hanzo suffered under his great uncle's penetrating stare. Did the man have to be so sharp? He was pushing a hundred years old, but dementia had yet to set in, much to Hanzo's chagrin right at the moment. He maintained eye contact, his expression calm and carefully blank.

Then, there was a general movement around them. A servant leaned between them to pick up Hanzo's half-empty plate, breaking the staring contest. Hanzo looked around and saw that people were getting up, being offered glasses of alcoholic beverages and encouraged by Hanzo's aunt - Hanzo's father's sister, and the hostess for the evening - to step into the garden for a night cap. 

Hanzo rose as well, and bowed. "Thank you once again, great uncle. I always appreciate your wisdom."

"Hmph," the elder said, also rising. He returned the bow. "Step carefully, nephew." Then he offered his arm to his wife, and swept away. 

The massive long wall of the room was being folded back, opening the dining hall to the garden beyond. The large open space had paths winding this way and that amongst the cherry trees, with various water features and interesting rock gardens to look at as one walked the paths. From outside came the sound of Japanese traditional classical music, as the band that had been hired for the evening picked up their shamisen and other instruments and began to play.

Hanzo had scarcely begun to head in that direction when Yamamoto came towards him, his granddaughter in tow. "Kumicho, what a fine meal. Thank you very much for your generous invitation."

"It was nothing," Hanzo said automatically. Indeed, he had scarcely had any part in planning the event. 

Yamamoto bowed and Minako shuffled forward. "May I introduce you to my granddaughter, Yamamoto Minako."

"Pleased to meet you, kumicho," she said, clasping her hands in front of her and bowing low. "It is an honour."

"The honour is mine," Hanzo said gravely, bestowing a small bow in return. He was acutely aware that Jesse was standing behind him, picking his teeth with a fingernail. Hanzo straightened and cleared his throat. "Is this your first time at Shimada castle?" he asked, though he knew it was.

She looked up tentatively, giving him his first view of her face. It was a pleasing, symmetrical face, with tasteful makeup that wasn't overdone. Her smile was demure, but genuine. "My first time, yes. It is so beautiful."

"Quite," Hanzo said. He knew they were just exchanging pleasantries, but he still felt pride at the compliment. Yamamoto had retreated a few steps and was looking on eagerly, though he tried to hide it by pretending he was inspecting the mechanism that allowed them to open the wall of the dining room.

Hanzo drew a breath and suppressed a sigh. "Would you like me to give you a tour of the garden?"

"Very much," she said, and her smile widened, the expression touching her eyes with a brightness. "Thank you, kumicho."

Hanzo offered her his arm, and she slipped her small hand around it, resting her fingers on his forearm as he escorted her out of the dining hall and onto the flagstones of the path.

Minako turned out to be very pleasant company indeed. After some false starts on both of their parts - conversational topics that went nowhere - they discovered a shared interest in chess and chatted about the latest tournament results for several minutes without incident before moving on to talk about several books they both liked. By now, they had enjoyed the music for some time, and had walked around the entire garden, finding themselves close to a hallway that led into the castle.

Minako shivered as the breeze kicked up. The sun was well down now, and while the garden was lit up pleasantly, there was little shelter from the night air.

"Are you cold?" Hanzo asked.

She had her fingers tucked inside the sleeves of her kimono, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She shook her head. "I am fine, kumicho. Please, don't be concerned on my account."

"If you're cold, then I would want to know," Hanzo corrected her with an edge in his tone. 

She flushed, and blinked up shyly. "But then you will deliver me back to my grandfather, and our conversation will come to an end."

Hanzo heard a soft cough behind him from Jesse, and ignored it. Jesse might be amused by how poorly Hanzo was handling this simple interaction, but he knew just what to do. "What if I offered to take you on a tour of some rooms of the castle?" he said archly.

Her eyes widened, and the shy expression transformed into a smile. "That would be most generous, Shimada-sama."

"Then that is what I have done," Hanzo said, and led her from the garden into the nearby hallway. Their tour continued for a few minutes, and Minako seemed to come alive. She asked questions about the paintings on the wall and other decorations, and several times her questions prompted a detour from Hanzo's intended route, as he took her to show her a piece of artwork that she expressed particular interest in.

Eventually, he found himself in a distant part of the castle from the party. The music was so far away that he could scarcely hear it, and the chattering voices were all but silenced. It was a relief to be able to all but pretend that the party wasn't happening, that his familial obligations were far away - except for Minako, of course - and that no one was watching and judging what he did.

They were standing near a set of Ming urns that had been in Hanzo's family for some time. Jesse had clearly grown bored of their wanderings, and was at the far end of the hallway, leaning against the wall and giving them space.

"What do you think of these?" Hanzo asked.

"They are lovely," Minako said. Her eyes flicked from side to side and she leaned closer. "Kumicho, I wish to do something daring."

He arched a brow, amused. "More daring than looking at pots?"

A furtive smile flashed across her face, more genuine than he'd seen so far, and she tightened her grip on his arm. "Oh yes." Suddenly, Hanzo felt a tug as she moved to the side, slipping into the adjoining room. He followed, more startled than wary, and in a moment he realized that they were alone in one of the spare bedrooms, and Minako was rising up on her toes, leaning up to kiss him.

Her painted lips pressed against his, warm and pliant. Hanzo endured it for three rapid heartbeats, but then gently pushed her away, releasing her arm and taking a step back. "That-- You must not."

She stood still, watching him closely. "It's all right, kumicho," she said. Her hair was soft and unbound, falling to frame her face, the elaborate coif unravelling as he watched. She had taken out her hair pin, and held it in her hand.

Hanzo stumbled, and his shoulder hit the wall. He raised a hand to his neck, which stung, and rubbed at the spot. His head, already fuzzy from the sake he'd drunk, seemed even more fogged. "What... have you done?"

Minako closed the distance between them, and her hands moved to steady him. "Are you well, kumicho?" she whispered. "I will take care of you. You've had too much to drink."

Small hands tugged on him with surprising strength. He stumbled forward, guided by her, and in the next moment he fell. His body struck the futon, and sank into the mattress. Soft lips kissed him, and perfume filled his nose. A bee stung him again, on the other side of the neck. Hands pulled at his clothing, and he reached for his lover.

"Jesse..."


	16. Chapter 16

Jesse had learned a while ago that fancy parties were always boring as shit, but tonight Jesse had discovered that they were ten times _more_ boring when you couldn't understand what anyone was saying.

At least no one was hassling him, and the food was okay. Jesse tried to watch what Hanzo was doing and copy him, but he couldn't get his fingers to cooperate with the chopsticks, so he just started stabbing them through the pieces of food and shovelling the stuff into his mouth. It was mostly fish, vegetables, and rice, which wasn't the kind of thing Jesse was used to eating. But Jesse had definitely eaten worse in his life, and it sure tasted good, even if he wasn't exactly sure what all the ingredients were.

Then somehow the whole wall of the dining room got slid aside like someone had fanned out a deck of cards and was stacking them back up together. It turned out that the room adjoined one of the weird gardens that the Japanese seemed so fond of. Not a flower in sight, if you didn't count the petals on the trees, but instead there were interesting rock formations and statues and stuff. Also music. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing Jesse grew up listening to, but the odd instruments produced pleasant sounding noises that didn't grate on the ears.

Hanzo ended up getting introduced to this pretty girl shortly after that, some old guy charging up right away with her in tow to present her to Hanzo like a Christmas present. Jesse figured this was the one Hanzo had been dreading having to talk to, before. 

Despite Hanzo's adorable - and obvious to Jesse - shyness, he seemed to manage chatting the girl up okay. They walked around the garden arm-in-arm looking like a princess and prince, talking in Japanese while Jesse wandered around after them. 

Jesse had little to think about other than the garden and the people around. The girl Hanzo was talking to was definitely beautiful, and pretty young. She'd spent a lot of time on her appearance, Jesse would imagine. From her hair all done up fancy with this beaded ornament hanging from it, to her clothing choices, she looked like something out of a Japanese picture book - and even Jesse knew enough to realize that she'd probably been dressed up just this way to appeal to Hanzo, who seemed to like all that traditional Japanese stuff a whole lot.

In fact, even after seeing her from every angle Jesse noticed only a single flaw - a triangle of three little marks on the back of her neck that looked like scars or bug bites. He hoped Hanzo knew how hard her people were trying to get him to like her, because it wasn't like Jesse was in a position to give Hanzo the hint. Given how naive Hanzo seemed to be when it came to matters of the heart, if it weren't for the fact that Jesse knew Hanzo wasn't into women at all, he'd have been worried.

To Jesse's surprise, after walking all over the garden without talking to anyone else besides each other, they went inside, and he followed. 

They seemed to be really into standing around looking at the art on the walls, and jabbering away - presumably, about something to do with the paintings. Jesse looked closely at quite a few of them after Hanzo and the girl moved on, but he couldn't see really what there was to say that was so fascinating. Some of them looked like little more than fingerpaintings, though it was sort of neat how they could use just a few brush strokes to make a bird or a dragon.

Jesse just didn't get it, really. Maybe Hanzo could explain it, when he was done.

They spent quite a bit of time at the end of a hallway, looking at some plant pots that didn't even have plants in them. Jesse gave them a bit of space, staying at the other end of the hall. He glanced away, listening to the gentle unintelligible flow of the Japanese language and looking up and down the hall in the other direction, but there didn't seem to be anyone around.

When he turned back, Hanzo and the gal were gone.

Jesse hissed and strode quickly down the hallway, forgetting to make sure his spurs jingled with each step. Not like there was anywhere to go, but he didn't like letting Hanzo out of his sight.

He rounded the corner and found himself entering a small bedroom with a futon on the floor and little furniture. Hanzo and the girl lay on the bed together, Hanzo on his back and the girl bent over him, opening his clothing with her deft hands as they kissed. Her face was obscured by her hair, which had come unbound and tumbled over her shoulders and back. 

Jesse cursed under his breath and drew back out of the doorway into the hall again, his heart beating quickly with surprise. He thought Hanzo didn't even like girls, so why was he making out with her all of a sudden? And what was with all the protestations and pretending like Hanzo was so shy and virginal, anyway?

Then Jesse heard his name. The passion in Hanzo's voice as he called to Jesse was unmistakable, and Jesse started forward again immediately, coming into the room once more.

The girl was sitting up now. Hanzo still lay sprawled on the bed, making no apparent effort to participate in what she was doing, his eyes closed. Hanzo's fly was open and his penis was erect, standing stiffly up from his body as she jerked him off. In her other hand she held what looked to all the world like a sample vial. 

That... was not right.

"Hey!" Jesse snapped. "Hanzo, you okay?"

Hanzo groaned, his eyes fluttering, but stayed closed. The girl whirled around to look at Jesse, and her eyes widened. "Go away!" she snapped.

In perfect, flawless English.

Jesse stepped forward aggressively. "What's that in your hand, girlie? Hey boss, you okay there? Answer me!"

Again, there was no response from Hanzo, and Jesse crossed the room towards the futon, reaching for his gun. The girl leaped up immediately and backed away. She reached into her sleeve, and made a throwing motion, and three shuriken winged across the room towards Jesse. He ducked reflexively, and the shuriken buried themselves with three vicious thunks in the wall.

In the moment he was distracted, the girl fled. She leaped out of the window in a move Jesse would have expected from Genji, somehow swift and unencumbered by the cut of her kimono. Jesse fired automatically, but his gun just clicked three times, useless, and he snarled a barrage of curses as he ran to the window.

He almost leapt to his death to chase her. Thankfully, before he went through the window himself, he took a look down and saw the sheer drop below. The woman swung away into the night on a grappling hook, and vanished.

Jesse slammed his fist into the wooden frame of the window, still cursing, and turned back to Hanzo. He still lay insensible on the bed, muttering to himself and apparently unaware of what was going on.

"Hanzo," Jesse called, holstering his peacemaker and dropping to his knees on the futon. He shook Hanzo's shoulder. "Hey, darlin'... wake up," he urged, but there was no response.

He sighed and looked around. The girls' hair ornament lay innocently on the floor. Now that it was freed from her hair, he saw the wicked needle protruding from it. Had she drugged him? The sample vial was also left behind on the mattress, empty and unlabeled. Jesse pocketed both of them and pulled the three shuriken from the wall as well.

Then he turned to regard his employer. 

He zipped up Hanzo's fly again and buttoned his shirt. It was hard to get him looking as buttoned up and prim as he usually did without any cooperation, but Jesse figured it wouldn't much matter. What he needed to do was get him safe, if safe was even possible in this goddamn place.

He bent and slid a hand under Hanzo's shoulders, and levered him up to his feet. "Jesse," Hanzo murmured, nuzzling under Jesse's chin. "Make love to me."

"Not right now, baby," Jesse said with a sigh. "C'mon, I'm just gettin' you back to bed."

Hanzo made a discontented noise. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jesse found himself smiling fondly as he dragged Hanzo out of the room and navigated back towards Hanzo's bedroom. That was a challenge, since Jesse didn't know his way around, but a couple of times he ran into servants and asked the way with a combination of slow talking and pantomime, and they were kind enough to point him in the right direction.

As he finally glimpsed the carved, ornate doors that separated Hanzo's suite from the rest of the castle, another man appeared, apparently headed in the same direction - a man Jesse vaguely recognized. Ashari was it? No, Hanzo had said his name was Asahi. Whatever.

The older man's eyes widened when he saw Jesse and Hanzo, with Hanzo leaning heavily on Jesse's shoulder, his weight almost totally supported by Jesse's arm around his waist. "Is the kumicho well?"

Jesse grimaced. This guy seemed nice enough and was a member of Hanzo's family, but there was something about him that Jesse just didn't like. It didn't matter if it was the pope himself, though, Jesse would have said the same thing.

"Oh yeah, just had a bit too much sak-ee at dinner, I'll bet," Jesse said lightly. "I'm just helpin' the boss back to bed to sleep it off. Didja need somethin'?"

Asahi sighed and wrung his hands. "I had hoped to have an opportunity to speak to Shimada-sama about a business proposition. The partners are only in the city for one more day, and they wish to speak with him, but I don't have his permission to set up a meeting."

Jesse groaned inwardly. It didn't seem like Hanzo had a personal assistant or anything, and that was definitely not Jesse's job. He didn't even want to know the details of whatever 'business' these guys might want to discuss with Hanzo, but he had to figure it was important if his uncle was wandering the halls looking for Hanzo in the middle of the night.

"Look, I don't think he's in a fit state to make any decisions, but it can't hurt to set up a meeting," Jesse said. "Just go ahead and do it and I'll let him know in the mornin' when he wakes up."

Asahi looked startled. "You would take responsibility for that?"

Jesse waved his free hand carelessly. Hanzo was starting to feel real heavy and he was getting impatient to get him safely into his room and into a bed. "Just go ahead and do it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I...will do so, then," Asahi said thoughtfully. "I've not seen you before today. What is your name?"

Jesse turned towards the door and started helping Hanzo in that direction. He felt the other man's penetrating gaze. He had the same damn eyes as Hanzo, right down to the way they could look into his soul. But Jesse had a ready answer, and a smile to give in response. "The name's James Maverick. I'm the new bodyguard."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maverick, and welcome to the family," Asahi said. "I will set up the meeting. Please, tell the kumicho that the representatives from Talon will be here tomorrow at three o'clock."

Jesse almost stopped dead. Somehow, he kept walking without tensing up or changing his pace. "Sure, will do!" he said carelessly, waving his hand in farewell. He didn't breathe easy, though, until he had the door closed between him and Hanzo, and Asahi.

~ ~ ~

Genji made his way to Shimada castle, a journey he had once believed he would only make one more time in his life. 

He had lived here, and had trained to be a ninja here, and had snuck out of here thousands of times to meet his friends, go to parties, and generally do things his father didn't approve of. He had snuck in an equal number of times after taking part in those things. He knew every inch of the mountain side, every handhold one could use to enter or exit without being seen, and the location of every guard post. He knew the guard's schedules down to the minute, and the routes they took on their patrols.

Of course, on those occasions when he had steathily entered the grounds after a party or hook up, he was still the son of the kumicho. As much as his activities hadn't been sanctioned, if anyone had seen him, they would have allowed Genji to pass as if unnoticed. 

So this was a little different, and much more dangerous than it had ever been before. He couldn't afford to be sloppy in even the smallest way.

He bypassed the front gate and climbed along the cliffside instead. His foot claws dug into the stone, his cybernetic legs incapable of growing tired even though the demands he was putting on them should have been almost impossible. If he reached the spot he was thinking of, he should be able to enter the house by scaling a wall and entering a garden near the banquet hall. That room was scarcely ever used, and the garden was unguarded because no one should have been able to enter from a side adjoining a sheer cliff, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would see him.

Unfortunately, when he drew close to the location, he heard a hubbub of voices. He paused, clinging to the stone a few feet below the level where the great wooden posts had been driven into the ground to support the wall. He couldn't hear well enough to understand what anyone was saying, so reluctantly Genji climbed upwards. 

Wood splintered under his claws as he scaled the wall itself, and he wedged himself under the tile roof that jutted out a few inches on either side at the top of the wall.

For several minutes, Genji simply listened. There were more than a dozen voices, much more, and music as well. Hanzo was hosting a party, he realized, and it was just bad luck that Genji had decided to show up on that night.

Jesse probably wouldn't be killed on the night Hanzo was entertaining guests, though it was very possible that Hanzo's goons were enjoying themselves at Jesse's expense while the upper echelons of the clan were having their fun. But Jesse had been missing for almost a month already, and was still alive. One more day probably wouldn't make much difference. 

Regretfully, Genji prepared to make the long and treacherous journey back along the cliff face. He would just have to come back tomorrow when the area would be deserted.

But just before he was about to leave, Genji heard a voice he recognized - and a name that couldn't fail but attract his attention.

"Hanzo's black out drunk again," growled a voice that Genji identified as his mother's brother, Asahi. "I met him being carried by his bodyguard back to bed. A disgrace."

"I didn't think he'd drunk so much at dinner," came a second voice that quavered with age, but somehow managed to be strong and deep anyway. Goro, Genji's great uncle and Asahi's father. "But I haven't seen him in hours. It's not unlike him to slip off and drink himself into oblivion rather than subject himself to a party. You know what he's like."

Genji had to suppress a snort. So Hanzo hadn't changed much, though it sounded like he'd developed even more of a drinking problem in the past year. He'd never been social, and had always acted like talking to other people was a chore. Sometimes Genji had thought Hanzo would prefer to have his fingernails pulled out rather than converse with someone.

"Be that as it may, father, it means I'm going to make the arrangements without his blessing. Talon will be here tomorrow afternoon," Asahi said. 

"Are you certain this is the best course?" Goro asked. "What about our alternate plan?"

"There's no choice left. They are growing impatient and if we delay any longer the whole campaign will have been a waste of time. Anyway, I assume that the girl failed," Asahi said. "I haven't seen her since they..." Their voices faded as the two of them walked away. 

Genji clung to the wall without moving for several minutes, reeling at the confirmation of what Jesse had been sent to learn. Hanzo _was_ working with Talon.

Just one more reason why he should die.


End file.
